Set In Stone
by wolverinacullen
Summary: Spinoff of the Radcliffe Way series; Going home is always bittersweet. For Monster High's former gargoyles, a return to Scaris will change the way they view the world and each other. For Catrine, it will be a new test of her strength, and perhaps a test of another person's fate.
1. Chapter 1

_**Set In Stone**_

_Chapter 1_

Blessed be the Earth. I have never been a religious man, but in a private plane going from Oregon to Paris and experiencing turbulence through three fourths of the flight, I think I got what people were trying to say.

Catrine and her gigantic, hulking boyfriend were off the plane ahead of me; probably the two people in the world more happy to see land than I was. If I had the nerve to leave Rochelle's side while she struggled with getting Garrot's wheelchair out of the place it had been locked into all flight, I would've. It was getting harder and harder for him to leave it, which was why it had been grounded to the floor of the jet instead of having him switch in and out of it. We skipped graduation to hang around with him before we left to join the rest of his family in Scaris. Catrine and Manny had a legitimate reason; he had Bloodgood's help studying abroad for college and Catrine had actually gotten into one of the prestigious art schools here. That, and she was so close to Rochelle that it was insane that they weren't related. This whole thing with Garrot had been insane enough for her to want to come back to Scaris with his family after he had come after her. His family knew he wasn't up for this trip and they offered to stay in Salem with him, but after the word hit of everything that had gone on in the past couple years, they took his word at being up to travel. Any sane parent would've. If my family had the money, mine probably would've come with me. My stepmom, Prim, sent me ahead with their blessing. I think she thinks I'm where I'd like to be, but honestly? We're both dreaming.

Rochelle cussed under her breath. Her usually straight, totally combed down hair was a mess from the crappy sleep she'd gotten on the flight. It was probably more like a crappy few months of sleeping, but at least she pretended to be okay outside of just waking up. Garrot was trying to soothe her, but the poor guy looked like hell anyway, so it really didn't help one way or another. I walked over and twisted the bolts the opposite direction, tugging them up and releasing the fasteners that usually nailed down seats. Garrot smiled a really pale, thin-lipped, _god-I'm-in-awful-pain-but-thank-you-anyway_ smile. I grimaced in reply. He laughed. It was pretty obvious how much it hurt, but he did it anyway. Rochelle sunk back on her heels, looking desperately at me. I freed the other wheel and grabbed our bags out of the overhead while he wheeled himself toward the front. Rochelle bolted to her feet, meeting my knee after he passed. I passed her both of their bags and rose a brow, "Roxy-"

"That's not my name," she tried to cut me off. I pretended I hadn't heard her.

"He's not a baby. If he wants to do it, let him."

She pushed me away. She'd been doing a lot of that for the past couple months. The pilot, copilot and staff of two were unloading all of our stuff onto the tarmac. I half expected an armored car to come rolling up. Instead, a black Benz pulled in with an attached camping trailer. Catrine broke into one of her joyful little smiles and tugged her boyfriend's collar to get him off the pavement. Manny rose slowly, glancing at me before shuffling off toward the car. Her dad hopped out and made me wonder if they still ran that jet service that left half an hour after commercial airlines and still got there before them. Behind the Benz and obviously given the same special permission came a put-putting van. _Please don't be our ride._

"Grandma?" Rochelle called out toward the car. It was probably the first time since Garrot got smashed that I'd seen her smile like that. She dropped her bags and bolted across the pavement, trusting the car to stop before it hit her. It did; the driver almost instantly parking and climbing out to meet her. I shouldered my bag and walked up beside Garrot. Whether he was up to being touched or not, I rested my hand on his shoulder, hoping that it was light enough not to break him any more. He glanced up, "She's happy."

"Nah, she's relieved."

Garrot looked up again, holding my gaze this time. "If I was a burden on her, why did she come?"

"You're her better half, you tell me," I said. I hoped it sounded like I was joking. She hadn't been with her grandma for a whole two minutes before the old gargoyle had her sitting in the back seat, bawling her eyes out into a fresh box of tissues. It was killing both of us. I waited until the boxes and stuff were set to go before I patted the top of his head, "Let's go, wheels. We might have to strap you to the top of the roof, but we'll get you there."

He laughed and immediately winced. I had to look away, but I knew what was happening. His arm would wrap around his chest, grabbing himself like it could keep him together. He might shed a few tears. No one said internally crumbling was an easy feat. But eventually, the pain would go away and he'd sit there, breathing heavy, with glassy eyes. I picked up Rochelle's boxes, marked with a pink tab ala the wheeled wonder, and carried them off to the van. They didn't notice me until I popped the back and started loading. Rochelle immediately leapt up to help, but I tossed her bag on her lap and knocked her back down. Her eyes went wide. I smirked, "Your hair's a mess and you look like you've been up all night. Roxy, chill. I got it."

Her eyes returned to normal slowly. She dumped her bag on the floor and got up. I moved away before she could hug me. The worst I could do was avoid it right now. Box after box, hers, his, mine. The van was big enough for the both of their stuff and I didn't have much to stuff in the back seat, but there was really only room for people without wheelchairs. Rochelle was staring at him; she wasn't about to leave him on the airport pavement. I put his bag in back too and patted her shoulder, "Go home, we'll meet you."

"How?" she whispered, somewhat desperately. His parents probably had to go rent a van, get the house somewhat wheelchair accessible and all that junk. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, "They have busses that run to Scaris, don't they?"

She was gonna cry again. She shut the back door and flung her arms around my chest before I could stop her. She didn't even give me time to hug her back before she ran over to Garrot and knelt before his wheelchair, pressing little kisses to his face and brushing back the freshly dyed bangs drooping over his forehead. "Granite is going to take you home to us, _mon chere. _Is that alright?"

"Of course, Rochelle," he murmured to her. "You go home with your grandmother, get some rest. We'll be there before you know it."

I forced a smile as she looked up at me. She gave me the instructions so many times that I knew them by heart and she knew I did. She kissed him one more time and ran back to the car, probably trying to hide more crying. She had two moods lately: crying and relieved. The way she sacrificed every other aspect of the Roxy she'd been to take care of him almost made me think that when_ it_ happened, she'd go too. A lot of my Rochelle was gone already, but he was grinning after her like nothing changed, so maybe it was just getting muffled. I was too tired and too happy to be on the ground to really think about it much.

We had to wait until the van pulled out to wander off the air strip. Apparently we weren't in Paris like I thought; it was a small airport, not one of the TSA run ones. Of course, only the most incognito for a contact of Dracula's. Garrot was completely content to push himself until he wore out, so I let him. He led the way as best he could in a chair, going toward the very well lit area I assumed was downtown Paris, or somewhere resembling Paris. He stopped suddenly and turned his chair, "Look."

I had to squint, but through the trees I could see it too. The tall, twisting iron that was the humans' postcard monument. Mirrored, albeit smaller, out of twisted, gilded silver, perhaps six blocks away from us with a clear view, was our own. So that was the difference between Scaris and Paris. My mouth twitched as he started off, pushing into the street. I just followed. "Do we have suburbs like this everywhere?"

"Oui," he replied. "That was why I was surprised to find Salem as Salem, and not named after its human half."

I snorted. "We founded it."

His lips twitched. Garrot had a pretty face. When he showed up, it went from being Rochelle-exclusive to being a French thing, but as we got into the throngs of people, I got the feeling that the kindness was a thing not exclusive to beauty. Nobody knew him, but they got out of the way. When he paused at the bus stop, they let him on first, even if it took him forever and I had to get on with him for help. It was about then that I saw the sweat on his brow and the distress that was becoming pretty obvious in the way he moved. He kept it very limited.

"You need a doctor," I said, sitting next to him.

"I need a priest," he gasped, "but I will settle for a ride home."

A lump was forming in my throat. I balanced my elbows on my knees and forced it down. "So...are you going to plan your funeral or anything?"

"I have," he murmured. "I wrote out a will, urged some of my lesser involved friends to act as witnesses to it. A friend of Monsieur DeMew's made it official. All of my arrangements are to be enacted...held in my composition book."

I didn't know what to say. It was pretty obvious that one of my best friends, the guy I was sitting right next to, was getting ready to die. He was dying right next to me and there wasn't shit I could do about it. The silence between us was uncomfortable, but he broke it. He always broke it. And he made it worse.  
"All the king's horses and all the king's men..."  
All Dracula's people couldn't fix him. Because nobody could fix a gargoyle. There wasn't an amount of tacky glue in the world to stop the cracking once it began. He'd break. He'd die. She'd be mine. I stared at the floor, trying to find good in that, even though I knew there wasn't going to be any.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

Garrot sighed. He didn't have the strength left to laugh again. God, he was white. He was stone and he was still white. How was it possible for stone to get pale? "This is not your fault. You tried to help. Whatever will be, will be."

I could've choked and I could've slapped him, but whether it was guilt, friendship or the fact that it would've hurt Rochelle, I didn't do it. He kept making me want to, even after that. He should've known the slippery slope my self-control was on, but he kept talking.  
"I'm glad Rochelle has you. When all of this is over with, if you want to pursue her, I would have no qualms. I wrote that down. She has my express permission and I want you to instill it in her. I want her to have happiness after I'm gone, I do not want to take her with me-"

"Stop," I whispered. Why it came out a whisper, I didn't know. I'd been trying for force that I didn't have. Guys weren't supposed to see other guys choking on air. Garrot wasn't natural, it just wasn't natural how he got quiet and stayed quiet. He didn't even bother pressing the subject, he was just holding his chest together.

"When you die, it's going to kill all of us," I muttered. I hoped he knew that it didn't matter what she did with me; she'd always been in love with him. When he went, her heart was going to break. Like the domino effect it was, it was going to hurt me too, and not just because he was my friend.

"Ring the bell at the next stop," Garrot murmured. I got up and followed his instruction. He looked like hell, and he was probably looking forward to going home as much as I was-

"Where the fuck are we?"

He took the wheelchair lift's lowering to its best and left me to pay, which I did in American money that the driver didn't seem to mind too much. I ran out after him and found him wheeling down the streets of a very busy little shopping section. "Garrot-!"

"When I go home, I am going to lay in my bed until I die. I want one last thing, Granite, you owe me this." There was passion in his eyes, enough that it looked like he was running off to meet a girl.

"I thought you said it wasn't my fault," I called after him, catching up in a few strides. He was pushing himself, exerting way beyond what he needed to. I put my foot in his wheel and stopped him. He looked up at me with fury in his gaze.

"I will push you wherever you wanna go as long as you tell me where we're going and what we're doing, and you take the fall when Rochelle gets pissed off." Even if she was going to blame me for not forcing him anyway.

He exhaled slowly before sinking back in pain and nodded. "Go. Just keep going, and then I'll tell you."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

"Take a left."

If I had reception on my American phone, I probably would've been hitting ignore on Rochelle's calls a lot, but since its new primary function was a clock, I could establish that we had spent about three and a half hours wandering around Scaris. Garrot hadn't let up, he had been totally and completely sure he was going to revisit every place he had been in his life around the city. It was the middle of the night; most of the life we'd seen coming in during the late evening had gone to sleep already. I was tempted to stop, turn around and go back, but it wasn't like I knew the area. More or less by force, I took a left. We had been practically everywhere. Some places were in sequence, most weren't. I was actually incredibly happy to see that he seemed completely set on this one location, but the two flights of stairs was enough to deter us both.

"Look, I don't mean to be a downer or anything, but there's no way you can walk up there, and even if you could, it's probably locked-"

"The cathedral is never locked," he murmured. If only there were some other people around to take up the French kindness. I sighed, linked my arm through one of the wheels and looked at him, "This is going to be uncomfortable."

"Just make it quick," he replied, forcing a tense little smile. My lungs stopped working for a second. It was probably the closest we had been in a while, and he looked like he was at death's door right now. Glassy eyed, pale beyond all natural belief, he was even breathing heavily and winding his talons in his shirt. We had overdone it getting off the bus. Somehow, he managed to lift his arm and push my bicep. I picked him up, wheelchair and all, and took the stairs as quickly as I could without tripping. He was heavy. The chair was heavy. By the first landing, I was struggling to breathe as bad as he was, but for some godly reason, I kept going. I set the chair down and tugged the door open. The minute my arm was free, he pushed and let the smooth hardwood do the rest of the guiding.

When tourists talked about the French cathedrals, they really weren't kidding. Monsters and religion never went together much, but this place was undoubtedly our place. I pulled the door shut behind us and looked around. Solid, Arthurian brass chandeliers complete with white candles dangled by chains from the ceiling. It was totally stone, just like both of us, save for the modernized hardwood running up the isle. The rest was covered in thin, off-gray carpet. Moonlight cast colorful shadows down over the neutral floor and dark benches. The whole place didn't feel religious at all, not in the human sense. The window Garrot was facing had a circular mosaic for a window, right above the altar. It was the other sides that depicted other things. I recognized the Last Supper and the Virgin, but aside from that, there wasn't a one I could tell from another. With fumbling hands, Garrot took a prayer book out of the front pew and tugged a rosary out. I hung back and stared at the artwork in the windows. It felt like Vampires were welcome here. It might've been the only church on earth to _want_ us.

Rochelle might've tried to make some kind of point about how this was supposed to be life-affirming or something, a test of my faith or whatever, but I was wiped. There was a bench big enough for me to sleep on, and I took advantage of it. He sat there, wrapping the brown ribbon around his fingers, tucking his picture idols in his hands, talking softly like a mental patient. I laid down on the hardwood pew and closed my eyes.

It felt like just a few minutes of a nap, but when I opened them, it was morning. I started. Garrot's chair was still near the altar, the rosary dangling from his open fingers. Almost managing to knock over the pew, I scrambled to get up and rushed over to him. He was breathing, but it was rough. I let the air out of my lungs and knelt down by the chair. "Garrot. Hey, Garrot."

He shifted, his head rolling back before his eyes opened. A yawn fell from his mouth, "Morning?"

"Rochelle is going to kill us," I replied.

He nodded. I took the rosary out of his hands and put it back in the prayer book. He seemed surprised that I knew where it belonged, but we didn't have time to hang around. I had to go backward, bumping the wheels of his chair over the steps all the way down. People were already out; it was late morning. I cursed internally a lot. "We could stop and pick up breakfast?" Garrot offered. When he noticed the look I was giving him, he took his idea back with a little smile. "Go that way two blocks and turn. Three blocks up."

I did, nearly in a sprint. He started laughing, probably enjoying the trip more than I was. He held his side at the curb and started wheezing, but I didn't stop running for another block and a half. Vaguely, he nodded toward the house in the middle of the third block of residences about the same time I noticed the van, and our mutual love interest perched on the garage. Perched was more of a wistful thinking kind of word. She was totally asleep. Garrot looked at me and pressed his fingers to his lips.

I pulled him up to the door and tugged him inside like I had at the Cathedral. If other people were awake, and for gargoyles it was almost impossible, they weren't making noise. I shut the door silently and parked him next to the couch. Grandmas must've been international; there was even a scenery blanket over the back of the chair. It was a little more macabre than Prim's talk of kittens in teacups, but I got the point. Garrot shifted, pretending to be asleep, while I took up a sleeping position on it and rolled around a little to make it look like I'd been there all night. It was even better than the church pew. I stared off at the TV while Garrot drifted into real sleep, my eyes open until I forced them to close. The possibility of sleep still eluded me.

There was a quiet sound. A window closing. The thought crossed my mind that I was probably dreaming, but I heard Rochelle singing. _Singing._ I sat up and listened to her. Was she in the shower or something? Torn between laying back down and going to find out if we had been caught, I hung out on the comfortable cushions until her song ceased. The floors creaked lightly with her movement. Slowly, I pushed myself up and gave her every opportunity to hear me coming.

"Roxy?" I called in.

Her movement ceased. The door opened slowly, her eyes running me over while the sorrow filled them again. I leaned on the door frame. Her travel clothes had been shed, replaced with a fluffy white robe embroidered with a gold Fleur de Lis. "I thought I was dreaming," she admitted in a soft tone. "It's the first time I've woken up in my own bed in so long, I thought I'd imagined everything..."

I shook my head. Her quiet, sorrowful tone shifted in an instant. "Where were you last night? When did you get in?"

"Garrot had me running errands," I admitted. "We got in late, slept downstairs since everybody else was out. Your singing woke me, actually..."

She nodded and pinched the collar of her robe more tightly at her neck. For no other reason than to try to make her smile, I grinned. "Roxy, are you naked under there?"

"Are you naked under your clothes?" she replied, probably trying to make it sharp and failing miserably. "I'm going to take a bath."

"I gotta go," I cut her off. She looked at me with absolute disdain, but gestured to the bathroom anyway. I rushed in and took care of my business as quickly as I could. Still, Rochelle slipped in before I could leave. We stared at each other, her fluffy robe pinched shut at her knees and her collar to keep from anything being shown off. Her freshly cut hair fell just within the fluffy collar, brushing her freckled shoulders. The thought crossed my mind that if she had been a human, she still would've been extraordinarily beautiful.

She blushed and gestured toward the door with her elbow, "Please go check on Garrot. He was asleep when I looked in, but when he wakes, he'll need help..."

I nodded, but I stood there like a moron until she brushed past me. Her lavender-blue eyes met my own and she slowly released the hems of her robe to wrap her arms properly around my torso. I pressed my lips together. For being made of stone, she felt like she had a lot of give. "Thank you," she murmured. "For taking care of us both. I'm going to try to make this easier on both of you, I swear."

"Hey, I told you. I got it if you need time, Roxy. We both have time, he's gonna be alright."

This time, she didn't call me out on my lying. She just squeezed me, her arms wrapped around my chest and her head on the front of my shoulder. When she didn't move, I rested my hand between her shoulder blades and the other on the back of her head. "Somebody's gotta lighten your mood."

She smiled softly. She took her time to draw back, eyes so tired and sad that it physically hurt. I could've kissed her forehead, anything to make the pain let up, but she moved away and I slid out the door and nearly tripped over my own feet. _Brilliant move, G. Absolutely Casanova stellar. No wonder she went for the guy with more than half a functioning brain._

I took the stairs two at a time while everyone else in the house came around. Garrot was still out cold, which left me to a short while flipping through French TV. French news, French soap operas, French sports. The only channel we seemed to get in that was in English was BBC. I settled on that, watching some kind of British Western until people started coming downstairs and passing in front of the TV. Garrot stirred, shifting and crying out. Everyone winced, but no one went to help. No one could help. That didn't stop a quick dash of steps down the stairs and Rochelle nearly slipping off the last two. She was towel-clad, still dripping wet and knelt down instantly beside her boyfriend to smooth his hair and sooth his face with her wet hands. I focused on the TV as much as I could.

"Granite," she said gently. Against my better judgement, I looked up. Her eyes pled with me to do something, anything to alleviate his pain. It seemed a thousand times worse since he'd actually slept.

"We should get him laying down again," I muttered.

She nodded and almost let go of her towel, but for both of our sake, I caught it for her. "Go get dressed and point me to a guest room, okay?"

"But you would have nowhere to sleep," she murmured.

I shrugged, "I like your couch."

Rochelle's lips turned upward slightly, just for a second, but it was a second long enough to make Garrot look like twenty times less of a liar. He shot her a somewhat desperate look and with a teasing swat to her backside, I encouraged her to go upstairs. Garrot's eyes went wide with horror as Rochelle dashed off, blushing deep pink. He nudged me sharply in the ribs. As my eyes flicked up, I took notice of the other person in the room; Rochelle's grandma.

The old woman just smiled, shook her head and motioned for us to follow her.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

"I don't know what to make of this," Tomas DeMew said as he regarded his daughter, dancing around the kitchen to whatever streamed out of the computer on the kitchen table- which at the moment, just happened to be hardcore metal. Her purple-streaked curls bobbed while she swayed the spatula spattered with pancake batter in the air. Manny tried not to laugh. Aside from Catrine's pajamas seeming a size and a half too big for her slender figure, she was still attempting breakfast for dinner, even after the last two pancakes had gone mediocre at best. Cooking while enthusiastic was not an easy feat.

"Your guess is really as good as mine," the young man replied after a moment of watching. Catrine paused her dancing to pay more careful attention to the pancake, and with a bit of hesitation, flipped it. A wide smile crossed her lips, "This one is perfect."

"I'm sure it is, kitten," Manny called in to her. She turned to flash him a grin. Tom patted his shoulder, "I think it'll be a while." Manny nodded, leaving the doorway with his girlfriend's father. The furnature that had managed to be moved into the house thus far had been entirely unscathed, but in a masculine sense, the top priority had been finding the electronics. Since the villa of a little house tucked just within the entrance of the French countryside was far different than the house in Salem, some adjustments had been made.

"So...how're we getting to school?" Manny asked, watching the elder male slit the tape on a box with a claw and begin unpacking the other miscellaneous electronics.

"Train," Tom replied. "The station is down the road a bit, but it will take you directly into Scaris in about an hour." He raised his eyes from the box. "Consider it the suburbs."

Manny's brows raised. "For suburbs, we got a lot of land."

"Three acres, plus the house. It's very nice. We used to live a bit closer to the city, but I thought it might be a change for Catrine."  
Manny nodded, glancing toward the kitchen. Half the time, a part of him expected her to ask for help. The rest waited on high alert for her to need it; a delicate little thing like her would need it eventually. When no sound but music emanated from the room, his eyes flickered back toward her father. "You think she's gonna do better out here?"

"I'm sure of it." Tom's eyes remained downcast while he unpacked. Rather than standing still, the minotaur headed up the stairs to his room and cracked open boxes. New furnature, completely sturdy and unbroken-in drew his wariness. The dark wood had a trio of shelves at the headboard and a matching trunk at the foot of the bed. Unlike his lifelong home, this place seemed entirely new. There were no dents in the wall where plaster had been replaced. The paint was all one color; slate gray. It was ready to become a kind of canvas. He began with his clothes, tossing them into the bed-trunk and the dresser instead of the closet. There weren't many clothes worthy of a closet. Shoes, he chucked within the fold-back door. The thought crossed his mind that it looked like a kids' room converted into something for someone of college age. The thought almost made him laugh. Possessions of the like went into the cubbies and onto the dresser to be arranged somewhat with order. Computer, tool box- yes, the tool box! He'd been looking for that. Opening it, he produced a box of tacks and dug through the other boxes until he came upon his _sentiments._

Up went the new calendar, different than the ones he'd had in the past. This one wasn't wrestlers or superheroes, or even movie themed. It was just a calendar made out of different landscape photographs. It had a spiral back and made him feel mature. Up went the few pictures of him and his friends goofing off. Up went the more delicately handled photos of Catrine, some of them together, some of just her. There were a lot of prom. He put up his favorites and put the rest in the top drawer of the dresser, where he now deemed his prized possessions to return amongst clothes where they would never be found. While he unpacked, he heard the pat of bare feet coming up the hardwood steps. Glancing up to the slightly open door, he watched Catrine pass by and cross to the room just behind the railing, the one facing the front yard, with the sloped roof for a terrace. The things she had on her previous one were down in the backyard now, where a slab of concrete probably twelve feet by twelve feet housed it and the grill for the months in which they wouldn't be housed in the garage.

The thought of life in Scaris was both new and exciting, and he would've admitted openly to never having thought of it until they had actually left. He kept unpacking until the door creaked open and Catrine poked her head around it. She grinned and wandered into his room. "You and Dad did an amazing job of getting everything set up so far," she commented, peeking into some empty boxes. "Do you want me to recycle these?"

He shrugged, "I can store 'em or something."

She looked at the pile of shoes on his closet floor and stuffed the boxes together before bending to organize them within it. While he folded clothes to fit in the drawers, he watched her match them and tuck them inside. When she was done, she placed them up on the shelf and dusted her hands with internal pride glinting in her eyes. He shook his head, "You've got OCD, don't you kitten?"

She rolled her eyes, "I like things to be clean." Wandering closer to the colorful pictures against the plain wall, a smile flitted across her lips. "I like these."

He glanced up to her and smirked, "Of course you do, you're in them."

She laughed. "No, I mean all of them. They don't make you seem like a bully." Clearly, she thought her pun was genius. He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders, drawing her in. Her powder blue eyes sparkled. He kissed her forehead briefly, attempting to release her to continue unpacking when she grabbed his hand. Mischief danced in her eyes, "Manny, you're not going to leave me with that, are you?"

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I am. Sorry kitten."

She pouted and lifted his hand to her cheek. The sensation of velvet-soft fur beneath his fingers nearly drew a purr out of him too. Tail flicking slowly back and forth, she purred and leaned into his hold, rubbing her delicate figure against his clothes. She turned her back to him, purring languidly and head-butting him gently. He shook his head and freed his hand, much to her disappointment. Glancing over her shoulder, he leaned in and caught her lips in a brief, but adoring, kiss. His eyes flickered up toward the door, keeping watch as she attempted to deepen it further. A gentle nudge to her ribs separated their lips, a whine of protest falling from hers. "Kitten, I can't give your old man a reason to kick me out."

She pouted, "He can't make my decisions for me anymore."

"At least shut the door," he muttered. To his surprise, she crossed the room and did nearly silently. The lock clicked into place swiftly afterward. A brow raised, watching the delicate little lycanthrope cross the room and settle on the unmade bed. She watched him with a tiny smirk of implication on her lips. He shook his head and continued unpacking the clothes. Mischievously, she reached out to bat the trunk lid down and push the drawer shut when he moved between them. Her tail was raised, coiling and uncoiling slowly as it swayed. He squared off with her, snapping a shirt out of fold near her. Purring, she batted it and caught it between her fully extended claws. He released it to save it from a shredded death and watched as she rolled all over it like a kitten's blanket, scenting it and him as hers. Picking up another shirt, he tossed it on her. Another followed. She batted them away like projectiles until he picked up the box and overturned it on top of her, making her laugh with delight. "Did you just dump your laundry basket into a box?! None of it is folded and half of them don't even look clean!"

He shrugged, "Honestly? I don't even remember."

"Eww!" she cried, dumping the clothes off of her lap and onto the floor. "Manny, mon dieu! I'm getting the laundry basket don't you pick up a thing!"

"And if they're clean?" he replied.

She looked down at the clothes on the floor as if asking him if he really thought that. He laughed out loud, the sound reverberating like thunder through the upper level.

Tom's eyes lifted as his daughter ducked into the laundry room and began rifling through the boxes. The sound of bottles hitting the top of the washing machine made his ears twitch and the corners of his mouth twitch up humorlessly. When she passed through, he glanced up again, "Catrine, have you found my glasses?"

She turned on her heel and regarded him with wide eyes, "Sacre bleu, I'm everyone's mother in this house."

...

Rochelle winced as she changed the bandages on his back. I didn't look; the gaping split was bad enough for me normally. Doctor Stein had managed to cauterize the wound, though, so no matter how bad he cracked, he wasn't going to bleed to death. Rochelle tried to tug them closer, trying to close the schism in his skin, but he immediately sunk his talons into my arm. I looked at her desperately, forcing her to leave them slack. She wound them around him and laid him back with a little help. We weren't even unpacked yet and the search for his medication had gone underway just before this. She placed another little pill into his palm and let him take it without water. He sunk onto his back, wincing until the pain subsided. He reminded me of Johnny Cade, except instead of laying on his stomach, he just popped enough pills to make most drug addicts overdose. Rochelle dipped a cloth in cool water and brushed it over his face. He closed his eyes and wound his arms over the bandages. His eyelashes went up and down slowly, the blinking slowing until he had fallen asleep again. She was going to be in tears any second now, so I moved around the bed to catch her head as it fell to my shoulder instead of her hands. I took the shaking bowl of water from her hands and put it on the night stand.

"Oh god I want to make it stop," she whispered. "Why can't we fix him? Why can't we fix him?"

I rubbed her shoulders while they shook. She squeezed her eyes shut against my shoulder and balled her fists. Thank god her skin was stone, or her talons would've torn her hands open. I picked her up and moved her off the bed so her shaking figure wouldn't disturb him. It was pretty cool watching him sleep. The pain meds knocked him out cold for a couple hours, and I mean so cold that Doctor Stine had said there was literally no way he was even dreaming in the kind of sleep he went into. Sometimes I wished Rochelle had the sense to tap into it too, not that I wanted her to become a junkie or anything, just get real sleep. She cried, and then she napped, and then she took care of Garrot, and then she cried, and then she napped, and the cycle had repeated itself all day, every day, for almost four months.

"Because we're not doctors," I muttered, giving her a squeeze. I rocked her back and forth on the floor slowly. Her face was pressed into my shoulder and I swore she was biting my shirt to stop herself from screaming, but I didn't know and I didn't want to ask. Even if it was my shirt, it felt rude. I also knew I couldn't help much, but I could give her the truth. It hurt now, but I did know Rochelle. Even if she hated it now, she'd thank me for it one day. "It is going to stop. Roxy...he's gotta see a doctor."

"Shh," she whispered, striking my shoulder. It hurt, but she needed to hear something that was going to hurt worse. "Getting here probably knocked a few months off his life expectancy,"

She struck my shoulder harder. It almost knocked the wind out of me. That hit was followed by several more, increasing in force until I couldn't take it anymore. I drew back, watching her clasp her hands to her mouth as she lurched to her feet and tore out of the room. I sat back against the dresser and mouthed curses to myself while I tried to get the burning pain to stop. _Who thought it would be funny not to tell me how much love sucks?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Garrot and Rochelle's parents must've come in on a later flight, and apparently they lived across the street from each other, because by the time Rochelle and I were upstairs, eating breakfast with Garrot while he was totally out, they were over. About three seconds after, a bona fide war broke out. For once, I was incredibly glad I didn't speak French.

"So tell me about the British channel," I said, glancing over to her. "They've gotta have something worth watching."

Rochelle placed her spoon in her bowl and placed it between her folded knees. Like a piece of human origami, she folded downward with her hands slipping up over her face. I wrapped my arm tightly around her shoulders and pressed her into my side. Her shoulders were still moving slowly up and down, not yet shaking with the threat of tears. I kissed her forehead firmly and tucked her face into my neck. This time, she let me hold her. "They want him to go home. This isn't his home and they want him to be in his home."

"So we'll make it his home," I muttered, "Can't be too hard."

"This is his home," she whispered, "He's slept in this room before."

I could've pointed out that home was generally a state of mind, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. seeing Rochelle hurting like this was killing me. It was killing me the way it was killing Garrot, slowly and painfully, shutting everything down piece by piece. God, he could have a nice, long, healthy life in paralysis. Why couldn't he really? Because once the cracking had started, it was impossible to stop. Just his breathing was killing him. He was probably crumbling inside as we spoke. Why did my mind keep going back to that? I closed my eyes and remembered the slam of Pitch's body into Garrot's. The sharp snap and the cracking. I don't think I could ever un-feel the blood on my hands when he went down. I don't think I could ever un-feel the kind of agony that was going to change us all. A really dark part of me had the idea that we all probably would've been better off if Dracula had snapped his neck then. This wasn't mercy, this was torture for everybody involved.

Garrot groaned. Rochelle snapped up, nearly dumping her bowl on the floor. I grabbed it, letting her go free. She fell onto the bed next to him like a lead weight, brushing her hair back and then his. He grabbed her thigh, digging his claws in with a very open, vivid expression of pain. I put our breakfasts down and grabbed his pills and a drink. "Garrot," she murmured, "Deep breaths, mon amour. Please. Not breathing will only make the pain worse."

"Merde!" he shouted, more force in his voice than either of us expected. He held onto her like she was the only thing keeping him alive, which she might've been. I nudged him. He tried to hit me for jostling him, but opened his hand. I placed a duo of pills in his hand, letting him pop them before he attempted to drink. She lifted his head. He looked like he was going to choke on the water, forcing himself to swallow. "Put me down, put me down!"  
Running steps were coming our way. I sat on the other side and put his pills in the drawer, where he could find them and nobody else could criticize them. He shot me a look of thanks as his mother tore in. God, when people talk about the enemy of my enemy being my friend, they weren't joking. If Garrot and I hadn't been getting along well before, his suffocating parents were enough to force our hands in it. Rochelle bent over him, cradling his head as she brushed his bangs off his face. They fussed over him in French and we blocked them from doing anything; we were the ones in the ER with him. Not them. He was snapping quick, sharp replies in the language I didn't speak too, clearly wounding them, clearly making them angrier. French people in general had two body types, the thin, beanpole types like Garrot's parents and him, or fully curved and vibrant like Roxy. Just when I thought my mind might get distracted, Garrot's mother honed in on Roxy instead. That was when I got up.

I'm not gonna lie, I was not college bound here. I had a year of school under my belt at Monster High and that was pretty much it. I was here for Roxy and Garrot, and I think they could tell right off the bat that I was a little younger and a whole lot bigger. There was also the matter of the freak show scars, but I had plans for those, so they were in the back of my mind. I leaned in over his feet and spoke plain English to them; they oughta get the point whether they could speak it well or not.

"No offence, but you need to chill the fuck out. We were with him when doctors were telling _us_ what to do. He doesn't need to be moved, she's taking care of him, and I'm the bodyguard. So everyone over the physical age of twenty, out of this room. Now."

Rochelle wore a very sad smile. Either they spoke English, or they figured it was a good idea to listen to the big guy. Garrot's father led his mother out, no matter how many anxious glances she threw back at her son.

"That was very noble of you," Garrot said at the back of my head. "Looks like we're making a good man of you yet."

"If you weren't fragile, I'd probably hit you," I replied, sitting beside him. Rochelle shot me a look, Garrot grinned. "I know you would."

His attention went to her and I tried to tune it out. There were moments when I swore I could've loved him like a brother if he wasn't with Rochelle, but I probably did anyway. Brothers were supposed to be jealous enough to wait for the other one to die to steal their woman. We had been close, at least in the physical sense, until he came around. It sucked enough to think about kissing her during the minutes when I couldn't sleep, but the way Rochelle had fallen had dragged me down with her. Pretty much every waking thought was spent thinking about how I got him a death sentence and how much I loved her. The last one didn't matter sometimes for one more reason beyond my control. I could love her all I wanted. I could think about her, dream about her to my little heart's content. When they got together, they were _intimate._ There didn't need to be any clothes taken off to see how comfortable they were with each other. They managed to reach that level of knowing everything about each other, accepting it, loving it, becoming the couple that everyone else wanted to be, and then being pried apart and tossed back together later. She fell back for him hard, making me and Deuce Gorgon and everybody else about as irrelevant as the Mean Girls sequel.

His head was on her stomach, his fingers in her shirt, and she kept leaning down to kiss him. Holding his face, murmuring to him like she didn't want me to hear. I felt like pointing out that I could go, even if I didn't know the city, I could still go. Unpack or something, anything to get the hell out of this room. Their lips made that cinematic kissing sound when they connected. Selfishly, it made me sick, but unselfishly, it just hurt.

"What happened with you two before anyway?" I asked. I broke their moment, and for my own sake I didn't mind. For a second, I thought they'd ignore me. They stared at each other in _that way_. Like the history between them spanned lifetimes, not years. Like he spent the French Revolution with a hand down her corset because he wanted to feel her heart beating or some sappy shit like that. My insides felt like Garrot. Looking at them was busting everything up. And they just didn't stop looking at each other, so I looked away.

"I was angry when she left," he murmured. "We both drew illogical conclusions."

I wanted to remind him that I was one of them. Sometimes it felt like I wasn't even there. She looked into his eyes and ran her fingers over his cheek. Silent apologies, telepathic conversations, I couldn't take it. I got up slowly and glanced at them, "I'm gonna get my stuff, alright? Anybody want me to unpack theirs?"

"No," Garrot murmured, "Thank you anyway."

He had not been my friend for as long as I had been head over claws for Rochelle Goyle. When that won out, I felt like a royal ass. Even feeling like a royal ass, I couldn't sit next to them like this. I shut the door on my way out and went right down to the car. It was already open, like someone had intended to go into it.

I did get all of our stuff. I dumped all of it in Roxy's room, grabbed my music, and went out.

It really shouldn't have surprised me that they weren't done by the time I left. I decided to stick around the places I'd been with Garrot. With Pearl Jam thrumming on my eardrums, I took up people-watching. Tourist teenagers, shopping bags in hand, looking around and dashing into stores. Expatriate artists, still carrying their telltale signs of other countries. Then there were the locals, amused and in a lot of cases, interested in the tourists around them. The bus stop at the end of the long block was a nice enough place to stop as any. Pearl Jam flickered to Coldplay. Clouds broke overhead and let through some sun. I didn't notice how much warmer than Salem it was until now. I tilted my head back and let out a slow exhale of relief.

"Yo, sticks and stones!"

My head lifted and I looked around only to jump in surprise when hands larger than my own seized both my shoulders. It was a genuinely relieved laugh that burst out of my mouth when Manny Taur came into sight. I pulled out an earbud only to be dragged across the street, "Hey, guess what?"

"What?" I replied.

"I got into college," he said, clearly impressed with himself.

I pretended to be shocked long enough to make him surprised, then I busted into laughter. "I guess I don't have much choice in it anyway, but why don't you show me where you're going?"

He clasped my shoulder forcefully, probably something that would've hurt someone who wasn't made of stone, and laughed. "I never thought you'd ask."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Walking the streets gave me a lot of questions, like how it was possible for a guy like Manny Taur not to hit on girls- not like he did much at Monster High, and the almighty one looming over me; how exactly he managed to get into a nice foreign school. The minute I made it up to the school, I stopped dead. Not only was Rochelle intending to go here _afterward,_ but Catrine was also in the art program. I looked at him as if asking him if he was into that stuff, but he clasped me on the shoulder and led me in like the unqualified kid that I was compared to him. "This is all different, Granite. I promised Kitten I'd stay out of the frat party stuff and she promised me she wouldn't get in those catty sororities- get it?"  
His pun only made me want to roll my eyes, but I got it.  
"She wants to be the artist, I'm doing business. I'll take somethin' on when I'm done outside of that, like a trade or something. One of us has to make real money, y'know?"  
No, I really didn't know. I wasn't entirely familiar with the concept of sustaining livable wages or having money to speak of at all. I really would've liked to point out to him that I spent about sixteen years of my life in a side show storage wagon and that the past half year had been financed mostly by the Steins while my parents got on their feet. Because we didn't have people to take care of us. Granted, I knew Manny had something of a crappy family beforehand too, but his sister had turned out alright and it looked like he was going to too. The recurring thought crossed my mind that I probably should've stayed at Monster High. Who knew if Rochelle was going to stay in Scaris after it happened anyway? She probably wouldn't. We probably moved for nothing. Manny was trying to explain the pros and cons of going to school with his girlfriend and living with her and her father, but I couldn't exactly bring myself to envision somebody else's happiness. What if it never happened? I mean yeah, it was inevitable, but what if it took years? Number one, that would suck for Garrot. Number two, that would suck for Rochelle, and number three, that would really suck for me. I don't know why I kept thinking very selfishly, but I did. I didn't exactly have the money to stay here without getting a job, and I told my parents I would. One way or another, I needed to get more learning done. Prim had done what she could, but there was only so much somebody could do without finding a teacher like Bloodgood. I was spacing out, and it probably wasn't the most courteous thing, but Manny didn't seem to care. If he did care, he didn't mention it or he didn't notice. Maybe he understood that I needed my own head space every so often.

"Does it suck?" I asked, for lack of better words.

"What?" he replied, looking at the buildings and not the girls on the steps.

"Sharing everything with her. Probably not as much as it could suck, you know? Because I'm sure her dad pretends he can't hear you two fooling around and stuff like that, but don't you ever want your own space?"

"I do have my own space," he said, "I don't share a room with her. She has a bathroom, her dad and I split a bathroom. The female stuff gets kept out." He looked at me crossways and smirked, "Getting tired of Rochelle already?"

"No," I said honestly. I was getting tired of caring about Rochelle, though, because I had literally had maybe ten minutes of my own time to think in five or six months. The pollution of caring had started when she made her moves and slowly got deeper until I got so taken that I didn't know how to back off. "It was supposed to turn out alright, you know? Yeah, she was going to marry him and have kids with him or whatever they were going to do, but he's always known that I wasn't going to stop feeling that way about her." I wasn't selfish enough to take her away when he needed her the most. I was selfish enough to wish she made the decision to walk away before all of it happened, though.

"Nothing ever works out like it's supposed to," he admitted. "If I had my way, Kitten and I never would'a left Salem. But she likes it here. She wanted to come home, and I wanted her to be happy."

That kind of turned my stomach. Guys like Manny were tough enough to kick someone's ass and not think twice on it. I knew he had more than once, and not just Jackson Jekyll's. If anyone was supposed to be more selfish than me, it was really supposed to be him. I just got generally screwed, didn't I? Even the guy everyone thought was a dick was better with things than I was.

"Dude, I'm not saying you didn't get the end of the stick that was stuck in dog shit," he continued, hopping up on one of the stone benches of the quad. Internally, I wondered if I was even supposed to be here. I wasn't getting looks, but not a lot of people had the balls to give me looks. "But I don't know how I'd handle being you. Probably worse than you are."

"Easy for you to say." I wanted to have the confidence I had back at the beginning, when I was invincible. Everybody, monster and human alike, was afraid of the big gargoyle with the leather jacket and the long hair. Everybody but my Roxy. My girl, that I could toss on the back of my bike and take for a spin around town, maybe up to the maul. Kiss her on the grass outside. Kiss her when she came out from trying on clothes. In those kinds of fantasies, I always tried to picture her smiling again. I always imagined these very Hollywood smiles on her face, wide, silly, mid-laugh portrait kind of smiles. Little, devious bedroom smirks or something like that, but even when Rochelle was breaking the social rules, she never broke the rules set out for her. It was that easy for my mind to slip down that path again. Remembering when I snuck in her bedroom at night, her white-pink little nighty all ready for sleep. Her cheeks turned darker than her hair when I kissed her. Leather on lace when I fell on top of her in her bed, denim and the die-cast metal on my belt pressing against her legs.

"You look like you're gearing up to kill somebody," Manny said, void of his usual humor. The more I kept thinking about it, the more I wish I'd drawn it out. Ending that fight the right way really didn't make anything peaceful; the more we all suffered, the more I wanted to make everyone who made us suffer feel the same way. But that was the problem. The ones that lived were in juvie. The one that hurt Garrot was dead.

"God, I wish they'd finished the job," I muttered. I dropped my head into my hands and ran my fingers through my hair. I needed to dig out my jacket and find myself a ride. I needed to find myself something, something just for me.

But I couldn't. Because Rochelle needed me, because Garrot needed me, and because I needed her to need me even more. I needed to be the guy who was there the whole time she was in pain, so the attachment got stronger. So when he did kick it, he would feel like I was worthy of having her and so would I, and she wouldn't be able to imagine life without me.  
I felt very incapable of being anything but selfish, and the last person I had wanted to hear any reassurance from was Manny, but that was where it came from anyway. "You know, Kitten says when bad things happen to good people, they spend a lot of time trying to blame themselves. That's how you know if somebody's a good person, if they blame themselves and not somebody else. All this stuff right now sounds a lot like you're trying to justify a lot of emotion that you don't have an outlet for."

"Who asked you, Doctor Phil?" I shot back.

He just grinned, "You did, stupid."

Never in my life had an insult been a more beautiful thing. At least, not until a couple of gorgeous girls wandered up. And by gorgeous, I mean I seriously _noticed_ in all my haze of Rochelle. One girl was some kind of reptilian, covered in shiny scales that threw faintly blue tinged light from their surface. She had frog-like eyes, all green, save for a slit of black down their center, and a shy smile. Her friend, the leader, was all considerably _smokin'._ I couldn't help but push my hair back and grin. "Hello, ladies."

Tall, very leggy. Kinda slender like a model in the arms and legs, but where it mattered, she had this hourglass figure that wasn't quite as nice as some of the girls I knew, but definitely not bad on the eyes. She had long, really decadent hair, deep brown and pin straight, falling right down to her lower back. At first, I didn't know what she was. She looked like any other girl, but when she opened her mouth to smile, I physically stared. A forked tongue complimented huge, python incisors. The rest of her teeth were unnaturally sharp too, like staring into Venus's mouth. Manny cringed in the corner of my vision, but holding my stare made her a little pink in the cheeks. "Are you guys freshmen?" she said quietly. I noticed a little lisp in her tone. That soul-hugging sweater and matching skirt that held those curves just right should not have been the body of a shy woman. I rose, extending a hand, "Not here." _Smooth_. "Granite. This is my buddy, Manny."

"Opal," the shiny girl replied, clearly not as shy as I'd thought she was. "This is Veronica." The gorgeous she-snake looked at me sheepishly. I didn't want to let her flounder, so I took over conversation. "You're American?"

"Canadian," she giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her tongue darted out and dipped. Manny raised a brow. All I could think for a solid minute and a half was that it was incredibly, undeniably _cute._ She glanced back desperately to the other people they must've left, earning a nudge from Opal, but I knew that look. "Ex or never got there?"

Veronica's eyes flashed to me and widened. Her face flushed like she didn't expect to be caught.

Manny stood, glancing to Opal with an intrigued expression. I got the feeling that they were suddenly wing-manning for both of us. "We're going to a party tomorrow night at one of the sorority houses. It's co-ed. You guys should come..." Her eyes flashed to me, "I think you and Ronnie would have plenty to talk about."

The shy viper lowered her eyes and attempted to apologize. I nodded and quirked a shoulder, "Yeah, why not?"

Her eyes brightened slightly and her friend's lit up entirely. "Great! We'll see you guys there." She grabbed my phone out of my pocket without my permission, tugging me over by my headphones and writing a text on my screen before handing it back. Her number, plus the address of the party. And then, beneath, she included Veronica's. Veronica flashed me an apologetic smile before allowing her friend to lead her off. I glanced down at the screen and back up at the retreating girls.

"Still upset over Rochelle?" Manny asked.

I just shrugged; I had no selfish thoughts but one, and for once, it didn't involve Rochelle. She and Garrot were a thing while she was waiting for me...didn't that give me a happiness hall pass?


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

"I'm happy to see you happy," Garrot said from his bed. His head was propped up on another pillow. We were unofficially splitting a room since there wasn't anywhere for me to stash my stuff by the couch. He was watching Hitchcock movies while Rochelle took a nap. Maybe putting a sense of normalcy back between us was going to fix things for a while.

I snapped the collar of my shirt up and folded it down right (it had been crooked), "I wouldn't call it happy, but it's gonna be fun, y'know?"

Garrot shrugged. I was surprised that didn't hurt. "We all need a dose of fun in our lives. Whenever you get back, I have a request for you."

I rose a brow. He nodded toward his bag in the closet, "Grab my cash and take Rochelle to breakfast in the morning. I want her to know she's allowed to have a break."

I didn't make a move for his money, just my jacket. I tugged it on over the dress shirt and admired myself. Messy, half-grown hair, dark jeans, jacket and nice clothes. If I had tattooed _meeting a hot girl_ on my forehead, it wouldn't have been more obvious. Garrot knew probably as well as I did that it really didn't mean anything, but it was a shot in the dark. Have fun one night, never see each other again. Live fast, die hard, teenage gargoyles doin' it well.

As if on cue, a still-pajama dressed Rochelle slipped in the room with a large bowl of popcorn and two bottled pink iced teas. I smirked for no other reason than her cuteness and the color. She stopped to look at me with an expression of shock before putting down the iced teas on the nightstand. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, Manny got invited to a party. He's bringing me and Catrine along." It wasn't a total lie. Manny was bringing Catrine, I just got invited too.

"That's nice of him," she said, sinking onto the edge of Garrot's bed.

"Hey, you two crazy kids can have fun of your own. I won't be around to see it," I teased. Her cheeks went pink. I grasped her chin and kissed her forehead, bringing the ghost of a smile to her face. Garrot raised a hand and fist-bumped me before I ducked out. I made sure to wink and wiggly my brows at them to hint at giving them a nice time too. Rochelle shook her head, but her boyfriend didn't seem entirely opposed.

I headed out with my phone in hand to meet Manny down at the train station. Everything seemed pretty bright, and not just in the neon window display sense. I felt like I was going to go watch the stars and see the Northern lights again.  
I wandered down streets full of appraising girls in tight, striped skirts that came down to their knees and half-sleeved shirts that came to their elbows. I ducked around the fences outside restaurants and stepped in between parked cars. The freak show had been my life for most of it, so remembering it wasn't a hard thing. Yeah, we were living in hell, but it had been a hell I was used to. And a lot of the time, Farnum had us off the roads, past the rural areas. A lot of the time, we were out in the middle of absolute nowhere, especially during the winter months. I always liked the snow. It was quiet, and it was cold. It was white and sparkly. And the sky in the winter, it was always jet black. Jet black and spattered in stars and planets. The soft, white streak of the rest of our galaxy, my father's voice explaining it all. He knew a little more than most on the subject, I never thought to ask why. Maybe he made it up. But I noticed the differences in the sky when we weren't around people. I could always see the stars for real. We were so north sometimes that we stopped and we saw the lanterns of the dead in their pastel rainbow hues, leading off to oblivion. Prim told those stories.

I sunk onto the bench at the train station when I couldn't find them and I waited beside a mother and her little girl. The mother looked human enough, but the little kid was spotted like a little hyena, furless as far as I could see. She looked at me with her Mikey Mouse balloon and I realized that her arms were streaked in skin-toned makeup. I smirked and nudged her, "How's Disney World?"

She probably didn't understand English, but she pushed her balloon toward me. I pushed it back and started a little game. The train sped up to the platform and the hydraulic doors hissed open, and she forgot about me to call out for her father. They rose and headed off, and I was left alone with a lot of thoughts I shouldn't be having and a lot of anger I shouldn't feel.

Catrine and Manny stepped off the train together. They weren't arm-in-arm like most couples I'd seen, but they stayed close to each other almost instinctively. It was like a habit, like they had some kind of gravitational pull to each other. I could've said it out loud and joked that Manny was the size of a planet and poor Catrine was getting yanked into orbit and then got up and pretended to resist a pull that wasn't there until my face was stuck in his arm or something, but my humor couldn't be salvaged that fast.

I got up. "Catrine, gorgeous as always." She was. She wasn't Rochelle, but she was proportional. Medium sized chest, medium sized hips, nice legs, a body like a gymnast. Now that I could've made a pun on. She rolled her eyes and hugged me. Her hair smelled like fresh dye. There were little streaks of magenta in the purple now. "Granite, always crude."

"You caught me staring," I replied like I was shocked.

It was Manny's turn to roll his eyes and wrap his arm around her. How he managed not to knock her over when he did that, I don't think I'd ever know. She really did look nice. She had on a white sweater that went down to her elbows and came off her shoulders with little rainbow buttons on the collar thing, black leggings and shiny shoes. I tried to notice when girls tried, sometimes I even noticed when they didn't. She didn't look like she was trying, and that was probably why he was so in love with her. There weren't a lot of really naturally gorgeous girls in the world.

We walked through the station side by side and emerged back into the evening. A lot of people would've called it a French evening, but there wasn't a huge gap between French evenings and American evenings. This was the city. People were commuting from home and to home and going to dinner and going shopping and just enjoying their lives. I didn't like thinking too much about life. Rochelle called it self-aware, my parents called it depressed. I kept catching whiffs of really light, cultured perfume on Catrine's neck. It was nice perfume, not the name-brand designer stuff with a distinct smell that anybody could pick up in a department store, but it was the socialite stuff. Really rich, but really light. Soft, but presented. Clean, powdery, like someone who was worthy of attention.  
I really hoped she got it for herself, or their relationship was getting unhealthy.

Manny led us back to the college and I ended up navigating our way through the campus to the suburbs on the other side. Nice houses lined the street, but one in particular was spilling over with people. I checked my phone and the address and glanced to them. Catrine faltered, "Manny..."

"If you get uncomfortable, kitten, we'll go home."

She nodded, linked her fingers through his and headed off ahead of me. I slipped off around to the back where I heard the non-pop music coming from. I guess the interior was full of the normal college kids. The back yard was full of people I'd get along with easily. A girl in black leggings with white crosses smoked while the girl next to her topped off a glass of rum and coke with more rum. Someone had set a stereo on the back of the fence and cranked it up. The pool had been turned into a skateboard ramp.

A timid hand on my shoulder drew my attention. I broke into a smile and linked my arm around the shoulders of the little cobra at my side, "Hey Ronnie."

She rolled her eyes, but accepted the contact. "Nice meeting you again, Granite."

"So this is the crowd you hang out with." I nodded in approval. "Where's your friend?"

"Opal? Inside. As usual. Probably screwing around with Thad."

I would've taken a shot in the dark to guess Thad was _the guy_. The way she said his name was like she was pissed, but not at him. Some reason let off that she wasn't pissed with Opal, either, just that Thad and Opal were in a realm together that she wasn't present in. We took up a seat together on the white-tiled edge of the pool while some kid a few feet below us tagged the opposite wall with graffiti. It was probably ten feet deep and concrete. Where the water went, I had no idea. Maybe they hadn't filled it yet.

"I love him," she said, stating a fact. This was not a date, because she belonged with someone else.

"I love someone too," I replied. "She's got a boyfriend. He's dying."

She nodded slowly. We watched the tagger spray blue and red paint on the interior, shaping something. It took form to be a really messed up cross that I immediately deemed some spinoff religion thing. When she saw my coolness, she actually smiled. "It's Satanic."

"Really? I had no idea." I kept my tone as dry as possible. Her soft lips spread a little wider. I got the feeling she didn't do much smiling. Her eyes flicked over me and settled on my hand on the tile beside hers. Gingerly, she put hers over it and let out her breath. "She thinks if I find someone who isn't Thad, it's going to change."

"It doesn't," I replied. "You just end up in a shitload of trouble with two people."

She didn't draw back. That was comforting. I really took her hand then, pulling my legs up and pulling her up with me. Her eyebrows lifted. She was wearing heels, that was what was off about her. Heels and a tight, black dress that came down to her knees and had sheer mesh sleeves. There was a Saint Peter's cross dangling from her neck, probably gold of a high carat. It was shiny. She caught me looking and her eyes widened slightly, "I thought you said it was trouble."

"I'm gonna be honest, if you didn't have the ability to take my tongue off really easily, I'd probably go for you right now." Her cheeks went red. It made the pit of my stomach tingle a little. I was still holding her hand, only holding her hand, and her eyes had fallen again. "Didn't you hear me say that I'm in love with a girl who has a boyfriend?"

"Yes, and he's dying. So you'll get your chance," she replied.

I still smirked. "He wasn't when we met."

She shook her head lightly. It finally dawned on me that they were listening to band covers of pop songs, but they sounded so different it was almost unrecognizable. Her other hand slid into mine and she dragged me off toward the patch of grass where the bored people danced. Swaying, or outright dancing, they enjoyed themselves. Someone turned up the party music in the house and the bass came slamming out of their stereo, almost summoning everyone sober enough to rise and enjoy the occasion.

Her back pressed to my chest and I pressed my cheek against her head, and I enjoyed every second of the trouble I was getting myself into.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

Opal cranked the stereo up even more. I don't remember when our stereo got merged with theirs, but _The Mighty Fall_ was blaring from the stereo in another room, but we could hear it like we were right next to it. Veronica swished her long, dark hair while I grasped her hand and helped her spin in her heels. She nearly toppled over, but I caught her and dipped her. The guys her would-be boyfriend hung out with were sitting on the couch nearby, saw us and started hollering. It drew a little attention to us as we danced, but she loved this band and so did I. So they stuck the song on again for us. Razor-teeth or not, she had a gorgeous smile.

"So what are you?" I called over the music, "Reptile?"

Her eyes glinted, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Her sass made me grin. I tugged her close and let her grind on me like a serpent. Somewhere between the third can of Red Bull and rum and the shift to good music with a gorgeous girl, I got addicted to the elation. I felt like a junkie impending a crash. More liquor, closer to her, causing all the trouble I possibly could before I had to stumble down the street back home. How long had it been since I saw Manny and Catrine? I didn't remember. My phone had been vibrating for a while, but I couldn't hear it. I could only feel it, and I didn't want to break this moment for anything. Her fingers wound in the leather of my jacket, her elated eyes meeting mine. For a half second, I forgot I had to go home to Rochelle and Garrot. For a half second, I was like every other person in this room, totally enamored with a great girl and more than willing to go along with whatever she had in mind. She was as energized and her shy tone had ebbed away. All of those feelings she held back were let go of. And suddenly, the crowd around us ran outside. Somebody filled the pool. We stood there while more than half of them left.

"I don't want this to end," she said over the music. There was sudden fear in her eyes; we were both going back to our own personal hells after this.

"It doesn't have to be a one time thing," I replied. "You have my number, right?"

She looked at me, and she tried to find something that wasn't there. We were both grasping at really great looking straws. She pulled me out the front door and once we made it to the end of the yard, I could hear her logically. Still buzzed, the air felt almost frosty on my hot skin. Her face let the desperation show. "I don't want this to be something it's not. I'm just having so much fun with you. You get me."

I was going to reply with the same sarcasm we'd been trading all night. My mind flickered between my two evils. My beautiful Rochelle or my sarcastic stranger. Her eyes were so fucking pretty, and she was at least internally not the good girl Rochelle was. She was a nice adventure, and I was stupid enough to like trouble. She was begging with her eyes like girls did so well, she had no idea how close she was to me. I could've kissed her, and I really might've if Manny hadn't grabbed me by the jacket and pulled me away.

"Granite," he said seriously, "Where the fuck were you? We're going home."

"Go home," I replied, "I'm talking with Veronica."

Catrine was glaring at me. I got the feeling that her bodybuilder boyfriend was the only thing stopping me from having a couple more scars. "Dude, you keep forgetting that Catrine's Rochelle's best friend. It's time to say goodnight and go home too."

I looked back at Veronica. One hand trimmed in chipped nail polish rested on the opposite forearm as she looked at me. She was withdrawing again. I just had the sense that I couldn't leave her alone tonight, whatever it was. I glanced back at him and muttered, "Bro code states that if anything happens with her, I'd tell you about it. So ask me in the morning."

"Granite," he nearly snapped. I broke away from the hold and ran over to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the street, "Do you have a car?"

"Yes, but-"

"Run."

She did. Her eyes went from withdrawn to alive in under a second. Her heels struck the pavement while I ran at her side, and she pulled out a pair of keys from her purse with a shaky hand. They didn't chase us, but I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. She put them in mine and I ran to the little silver four-door. I unlocked it and slid in the driver's seat. She slid in next to me, tugging the door shut quickly. I jammed the keys in the ignition, threw it to D and hit the gas. We peeled away and went in the opposite direction.

My head was spinning after a few minutes, but we charged through the residences and out of the city with my stone foot on the gas. The human area of Paris was in a direction that wasn't here. I didn't know where we were going, but once we managed to find a place to pull off, we did. My pulse slowed very slowly.

She kicked off her shoes and waded out in the grass.

I got out of the car and left my jacket on the seat. Somehow, I remembered to pocket her keys and lock up the car. She made it maybe ten feet into the empty lot before dropping onto her back and rolling over in the grass. I wandered over and sunk down next to her. "I don't know what to do," she murmured. Her eyes closed. "I...this is selfish."

"I've never been anything but," I muttered. She might not have heard me, or she was falling asleep, but I shifted onto my side and started talking to her. At the very least, it might've helped her sleep to know I was still there. "You ever hear about that concept of...what's it called...the hierarchy of needs. Where the most basic are at the bottom, and then being an uber famous super genius is at the top." She cracked a smile. I hadn't lost her yet. "What we need to survive is our most basic needs. And we think about ourselves all the time. Once we get what we need to survive, we start being selfish in other ways. We get a house, we get a car, a job. We get friends. Money. Somebody to spend our life with. Then the super genius. I'm kind of new to the whole thing, but it seems like once you have the essentials, then you start being selfish with other people. Know what I mean?"

"I have too much privilege so I get to steal some other girl's boyfriend?"

I closed the space between her arm and mine. She hardly breathed, but I picked up her head and put it on my arm. My head sunk onto my shoulder. "Takes two to tango."

...

Garrot fell asleep early.  
It was the middle of the night, and she shouldn't have cared less, but she waited. I found all that out later, of course, but she saw Veronica drop me off. That I knew right off the bat, because she dropped down into the yard while I was walking up to the door and Veronica was pulling away. My jacket was slung over my shoulder and she slammed into me with a closed fist. She cried out and drew back, hopping around and holding her hand. I slung my jacket around her and pulled her in, but she hit me again with the already bruised hand. "Roxy-"

"Don't you dare call me that," she hissed through her gritted teeth. It was the most fire I saw in her in months, and I was still buzzed enough to enjoy it. She smacked my chest, shooting off a thousand questions about who she was and what I'd been doing. She was jealous enough to care. My fingers tangled in the ends of her hair. Her spine went rigid and she dared me. I heard her speaking but the words didn't process; neither of us really cared.

I crushed my mouth onto hers and let my weight drop. She squeaked as we dropped onto her lawn. Her hands flashed up to hold my weight off her. Stubborn for the first few seconds, it took her time to warm up to kissing me again. Her lips softened and began to give when her fingers twisted in my shirt. The idea of her ripping the buttons free, eyes burning, crossed my mind and made me exhale shakily against her mouth. My fingers twisted in her hair even more tightly. She didn't seem to mind. Was the sun coming up? I felt insanely warm pressed against her. She squirmed, withdrawing before I could slip my tongue between her lips. Her breath came quickly and heavily, her cheeks so flushed pink that my fantasy was taken away instantly. She didn't do those kinds of things when she had a guilty conscience. Taking my jacket off the grass, she held it out to me and righted her pajamas as she got up. I stayed on my knees.  
"Granite, please get up," she whispered. I pulled her close and kissed between the buttons on her stomach. She pulled away quickly. I watched her face get redder, her arm extended to hold my jacket out to me. I did take it, only to drape it over her shoulders.

"Her name's Veronica. She's my friend, nothing more. She's lonely too, waiting for a guy. We're just hanging out. We danced a lot, threw a lot of sass back and forth."

"She sounds wonderful," Rochelle muttered, half embarrassed and half sassy herself. I grinned, tugging her in and attempting to go in again proudly. She blushed, putting her hand up in my face to stop me. I kissed her palm instead. Her elbow relaxed. It was like she got softer pressed against me. I nuzzled my face into her neck, kissing and nibbling and forgetting she had Garrot inside.

"Please, just stop this for now," she exhaled. "I just don't want this tonight."

I nodded. My lips ceased, but I didn't let go of her. Eventually, her arms slid up around my neck and she pressed her face into my chest. The peace slipped away into a four AM crisis and she was bawling into my shirt. "He's so weak. I can't do this with you, not when he's upstairs in so much pain. I love him, Granite...I know he wants me happy, but I can't. He's suffering, and it's all my fault."

I had nothing reassuring to say. What did she want me to? Yeah, I'm glad he got hit and is dying slowly, because who knows what they would've done to you? What if that was you in that bed, would you want to deal with both of us dying inside over you? It was only a flicker of a thought, but I had an active enough imagination to imagine Roxy in bed, paralyzed from the waist down. Garrot and I could hold her all we wanted, but when our fingers touched her hip she could no longer feel us. The pain from her lower back upward, the cracking, the suffering. Roxy wouldn't be as strong as he was, and he was being strong for her. She'd be begging us to kill her. I pressed her tighter to me. She probably thought it was consoling, but it was with a lot more gratitude than I should've had. I liked him. I liked him a lot, but would I have traded him for Rochelle? Never.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered into my chest. "This is so selfish, this is so stupid..."

"You just need me," I muttered. "It's okay. I need you too."


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

The days started to level off quickly. Day one, I took Rochelle to breakfast and brought my laptop in the bedroom so Garrot could meet Veronica. Day two, Rochelle went out with Catrine after class. I stayed home with Garrot. Day three, Manny and Catrine started classes. I kept distracting Veronica until she got out of class and came over to slap me personally. Roxy hung around like everybody's mother, taking pretty much every job off everybody either out of sheer guilt or sheer boredom. I made work for myself, usually outside. Like Ronnie needed the reason to stop off. She owned a lot of dark clothes with long sleeves, even if fall seemed like a long way off. She called it snake blood necessity. I called her a wuss. She slapped me. I laughed.

It seemed like every minute I wasn't spending with Garrot and-slash-or Rochelle was spent with Veronica. We didn't know each other well, but we were at peace in each other's presence. We stole the ice cream carton and sat on the roof of Rochelle's parents' garage, watching cars go down the alley. Every so often, I flicked a pebble at the windshields to watch people have metaphorical heart attacks when they saw us.

"That's probably dangerous," she admitted after the third time. I let her finish off the carton and laid back across the shingles. It was still sun-warm, something she appreciated after she laid back. Conflict between her insides and her outside made me take sympathy on her. I slid my forearm under her head, trying not to let it surprise me when she got closer to regulate her internal temperature too.

"A lot of things I do are probably dangerous. I'm not very bright."

She scoffed. "You're brighter than most sixteen year olds I know."

I flicked my eyes to her. I was tempted to ask, but I didn't. Why break the fantasy while I had it? She tucked her face into my chest and yawned. I laughed, "I bet I'm not a great pillow."

"You'd be surprised. You're softer than your girlfriend you know. Aren't you a half blood or something?"

"Just call me Percy Jackson," I replied. She laughed. We laid there for a while, her shoulder tucked under mine, eyes probably closed against my shirt. I stared at the sky and thought about putting on some music while she was still here, but only minutes had passed before she rolled over and rubbed her eyes. "I can't fall asleep, I have homework."

"Is it as crappy as high school?" I asked.

She grinned with all of her sharp teeth visible, "Worse."

I nodded. She jumped down without my help; my eyes went wide. Her delicate little hands ran over her pants to brush off the dust. I grabbed the ice cream container and followed her lead, still somehow managing to leave a dent in the grass where I landed. She laughed at my stumble, just hope I hoped she would. Eyes glinting, she pulled me in for a tight hug. "I gotta go," she murmured, "Take care of yourself tonight?"

I nodded. I would've attempted to hold on a little longer, but everything shifted very quickly.

"_Granite_!"

There were two things in the world that would've made me run the way I ran when I heard Rochelle's voice: the threat of danger or the promise of it. Call it instinct, but I knew. The door was already open and she was kneeling beside his bed, holding his hand while he clutched hers violently. I grabbed his face, making him look at me, breaking the steady focus he had on her. "Garrot. Hey, Gary. _You girlfriend-stealing ass wipe, focus on me._"  
His glassy eyes did as much as they could. He was probably in unimaginable pain, but I pried his fingers back from Rochelle's. His other hand grasped mine even harder than hers. Now he was getting it. He squeezed with all of his strength. Rochelle pressed her hand to his face, her lips moving with words that weren't making sound. "_Please,_" she kept mouthing, "_Please. Please. Please."_ Please what? Please don't die? He was suffering. If I had the balls, I would've ended it for him. If any of us had the sense, we would've let Dracula do it months ago. He suffered in miserable silence, teeth grit and the pain visible on his face before he let out the kind of strangled cry that made me think of a first-time mother without anesthetic. Silent steps crossed the floor and only alerted my attention when Veronica crawled onto the bed between us. Rochelle's eyes snapped up, tears running from them in silent horror. Didn't anybody know how to talk anymore? My best friend grabbed his face and had him meet her eyes. He must've been delirious with pain by now.  
Very tenderly, hovering over him on her knees, she leaned in. Rochelle snapped up, but I grabbed her shoulder with my free hand. Her mouth sealed over his.

"What the hell is she doing?" Rochelle hissed.

Garrot started relaxing. I put his hand down while she clutched at him desperately, "What is she doing?!" I had to grab her to stop her, but Veronica drew back and wiped her lips. Rochelle was shaking. Garrot's eyes were closed, and my friend crawled off the bed. "He's asleep. I can't pierce stone, which is probably a good thing, but my...y'know. It has an anesthetic venom in it. My fangs are what has the poison."

She smiled at me, a little, timid smile. Rochelle ripped free of my arms to fling her arms around her in gratitude. _Honey, you're going to smash her like an ant._ I wished I had the strength to voice that because that was a great comment. I was still kind of in shock. Her saliva was anesthetic.

"Wait, your saliva is anesthetic?" There went the words.

She nodded, "In enough of a dosage, yes. I mean, giving you a little kiss isn't going to be like novocaine-" She gently forced Rochelle to let go. "-But if I were to transfer it the way I just did, yeah, it would be. I've had it tested before. It's part anesthetic and part sedative, so, theoretically, if I decided to bite someone while they were asleep, they wouldn't know about it until it was too late if they knew about it at all."

"Those of who that you can get a chunk out of," I replied. Rochelle had latched on, holding her like a necessity. Veronica nodded. I couldn't pretend to be relieved, I ran across the room and kissed her on the forehead myself. "Can we bottle it?"

"You want me to spit in a bottle?" she asked skeptically.

"I don't care where you do it as long as we can use it."

Her eyes flicked to Garrot and she shook her head, "Poor guy. I wonder how he'd react to the idea of having a girl's spit for medication."

"He'd go with it." He probably wouldn't, but what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. And hell, if my friend was living morphine, so be it.  
I watched her with Rochelle. She wasn't tense, neither of them were. She never was. I didn't think anything really made her tense but Opal, and something inside me toyed with the idea that maybe, like morphine, she was somewhat addictive. It would explain why she had such trouble finding a guy, or why her best friend was kind of an...actually, we both had best friends who were kind of an asshole. Manny just seemed like a more obvious asshole half the time.

"Thank you," Rochelle murmured. I didn't know who was benefiting from it more, but she was crying the kind of tears I could only see as relief. Veronica noticed and blushed. She floundered for words, but then she caught my eyes. Her face went red and her eyes fell, and I think she knew that if I could've had a better reason to kiss her, I would've. Be it my love for Rochelle or our untainted friendship, I hoped she knew it meant more than she thought it did.

"Anything I can do to help," she finally admitted, her face ruddy and sheepish.

Rochelle moved away gently, glancing to me and to Garrot and sinking down in her usual chair. I walked Veronica out to her car, watching as she ran her tongue over her sharp teeth slowly. Her cheeks were still lightly colored with pink, her eyes darting to me quickly and edgily. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure."

"Seriously, consider it. You're the only thing that's working for him right now."

She tugged open her car door and paused to hold my eyes for what felt like a very long time. The look she gave me was like she was searching me for any hint that I didn't mean what I said. With a quick nod, she glanced back into her car and back to me. "I have to go...but I will. That was kind of horrible."

If I didn't like her as much as I did, I would've told her that was what I put up with every day. Judging by the sympathetic look alone, I just shrugged. I let her slip into her car and pull away onto the road, but as I watched her go, I could've sworn she hesitated for a minute. Just a second, long enough to see a flash of her eyes in the rearview mirror.

_A/N- I feel like this is really short today and like I need to apologize for that. I was out most of the day (and up quite a bit last night) and I'm rather tired; it's incredibly difficult to focus._


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

"The poor little half-wit has no idea," Opal laughed into her phone as she crossed the dorm. "I mean come on, Margo, it's not like he's worthy of either of you." She shot me a glance. I wished I wasn't in a headphone crisis, because as nice as these Sony ones were when music was on, they let in way too much outside noise when they weren't on. I considered pulling the other pair out of my gaming bag, but that was in the closet where Opal had taken residence while she got ready for her date.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the plush blue bathrobe go sailing onto her bed and immediately dropped my eyes. Best friend or not, she'd better be dressed. I shook my eye-pod to change the shuffle and went back to reading chemistry. Even with my eyes downcast, I felt the door fly open and heard, mutedly, Opal scream. The door flicked shut and her _true_ best friend rounded the corner to put his hand to her mouth. I only spared them a passing glance, because Aaron was stuffing her back into the closet with a pair of shopping bags and she was thanking him with her phone on mute. I shook my head, dropping my eyes back down, but not for long. He took up residence on my bed, then, running his hand over the backs of my calves. "If only I didn't have to grow hair like you reptiles. Ooh girl, you've been moisturizing or something, you're smooth as _silk_."

I shook my head, "I just take care of myself." _And don't have scales,_ I added mentally. He patted my backside and leaned over to kiss my cheek, "Well, I have to go escort Miss Margo down to the club. We're picking up some sweethearts tonight, wanna come?"

"I have to study."

I heard him scoff. It was enough to ensure I didn't look. "Ladies," he called into the closet, speaking to Opal and her phone directly, "Better be ready in the quad in twenty minutes, you hear me?"

"Then go and let me get dressed!" Opal shouted out to him. I couldn't wait for them to leave. My headphones were crap and I needed some peace and quiet that didn't involve someone crying at me every three seconds. _Come out with us, Veronica. You'll have fun, Veronica. You left Toronto and came all the way to Paris to hook up with guys and party, Veronica, don't tell me you came out here to study._ Actually, yes, yes I did. I could kill someone by kissing them, I think it was a safe enough bet that I didn't come out here for anyone other than myself.

I had done one selfish thing. The one selfish thing sauntered out of the closet in a sheer blue slip that caught my eye. Immediately, I whirled around and shook my head, "No. No. At least put on a bra or something!"

She smirked, "So it looks good?"

"I'm lucky you're wearing underwear, aren't I?"

We had been best friends since the third grade, Opal and I. Monster sub-communities were rather tight-knit, and since we were the only kids born in our school year from our part of town, our latching on to each other had been natural. She had to wear long sleeves and makeup practically from birth. I couldn't smile with my mouth open. Once everything came globally tumbling out of the casket, she traded in her sleeves and flawless skin for unnatural beauty. I had never been the good looking friend next to her, but putting something shiny on something already unattainable and making it available, that had been the spilling over of her well while mine still had nothing in it. I didn't want to see her as that friend, my responsibility overseas, but she was. And while she was totally and completely her own problem, she was also kind of mine.

She nodded enthusiastically and fluffed her hair before smooching my cheek, "I gotta run to meet the other Ron. Don't have too wild of a time dancing on your periodic table." A laugh trickled from her lips. She didn't give me time to get up before grabbing her flat little bag and ducking out to meet them. I got up anyway and swung the door shut. With triumph, I danced back over to my bed and threw myself on my pillows. They smelled like fresh Downy. With the book pressing into my chest, I felt nothing but relief. _Free at last!_

I stuck a piece of paper in my chemistry book and lowered it onto the floor. Tugging open the drawer on my side of the table that functioned as our mutual nightstand, I pulled out a jewelry box and lifted the lid, throwing a bag of Swedish Fish and Milk Duds onto my pillows. Gummy, yes, potentially lethal when eaten by me, probably, but what a way to go! I assembled all of my homework and began a study session to _Past Inhale._

The way I saw it, I had all night to myself. For a few nights a week, I had my own place. I could watch Doctor Who in peace, maybe get to Torchwood if I was lucky. All Opal wanted to watch was Face Off and Degrassi.

My phone vibrated as I laid on my back, spearing half-chewed Milk Duds onto my fangs while I read. I grabbed the stereo remote and turned the music down before picking up, "Toronto City Morgue."

"I'd like to order a cadaver for science," Granite said in my ear.

He made me smile, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. "What scientific purposes could you use a cadaver for, good sir? Medical trials? Re-animation?"

"Anti-venom."

My smile fell. I shifted onto my side, letting the book drop onto my fingers to hold my place. "I think it's naturally in my blood if we really wanted to harness it, considering I haven't killed myself yet."

"Ah, but you created your own venom. That has to be made outside of you." I wished I could see his face. He had no idea how strange it was to hear something so excited out of someone who looked very kindly bored with the entire subject. I was about to thank him when he lowered his tone, "I wanna come over."

"Are you in love with me?" I quoted into the phone. It probably flew over his head.

"There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired," he replied.

"I'm in love with you," I said with a degree of honesty. He laughed very softly. The back of my mind tugged images to the surface, images of his gorgeous face split in a smile. He really did have a gorgeous face. He had a gorgeous everything. Opal wasn't stupid, and she definitely seemed to have a knack for picking out guys across a crowded area, hence our meeting. "If you come over, would you do me a favor?"

"Pretend we got it on?" he teased.

"Bring food. I'm starving."

"Anything special?"

"Your choice."

There was a moment of silence; I bet he was getting on his jacket. I put my face in my pillow. Opal really got to me sometimes; Granite was my male best friend, the way she had Aaron. I was not about to think about how delicious his jacket made his muscles look...even if they were really, really delicious, and sometimes I forgot he was supposed to be younger than me.

"Let's go with whatever I can translate, alright? It might end up being some _omlettes du fromage."_

"That is not how you pluralize omlettes," I laughed. I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. "What, you wanna order delivery?"

"Do they deliver in France?" I replied. I hoped he couldn't hear me blushing.

"I really wouldn't know, lemme ask Roxy. If I need any help she'll call ahead for me or somethin', 'kay?"

"'Kay."  
"'Kay."

I smiled. "You're so ridiculous sometimes."

"Yeah? I like you."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't you dare put anything in your pants and make me have to pun with you."

"How about you do it this time?"

"I'm hanging up on you." My face was red and my teeth were visible. I could see myself partially in Opal's lamp, and the sight was disturbing.

"See you soon," he said. Just as I expected, he always had to have the last wit. He hung up on me. I tapped the lock screen and turned off the music. Leaving those on the table, I put away the homework I'd already done and made a mad dash for our closet. Having a friend over meant at least getting out of my pajamas, didn't it? I grabbed a Lion King shirt and some nice sweatpants Opal bought for me out of my suitcase and rushed to go get done.

I was still in the bathroom when he came over, attempting to make myself less...exhausted. "Deux omlettes de fromage!" he called out, opening and shutting the door quietly.

"Coming!" I called out of the bathroom. I washed up, tied up my monstrous hair and tugged the door open. He looked up, popping a candy in his mouth and saluting. He plopped down on the bed and gestured to the takeout boxes on the floor. "And when we are done with food...you can tell me as much about that chemistry stuff for anti-venom as you can."

I sat beside him and we split the pillows behind our backs. He had no idea how excited the idea of anti-venom made me, so I decided to give him something to be excited about discussing too. "So," I said between bites of cheese and egg, "How long have you known Rochelle?"

His eyes glinted and he smiled; I might've thought I would've regretted asking, but he wasn't cheesy about it at all. Just enthusiastic in a really strange, very Granite kind of way.  
"She moved to Salem. I was out. I don't remember who made the first move, but uh...we got involved. I snuck in, usually. Not a lot of messing around, but we fell for each other. Her boyfriend showed up, we started working things out...some quote-unquote friends of mine got involved. And he got hurt. Fast forward to now." He went quiet for a few moments, partially to chew and partially to find words. "We've been in this together for a couple months. He's been getting worse and worse."

I tried not to let my smile falter in the suspicion that was falling over me slowly. I picked at my food and popped a piece in my mouth. "So, is the anti-venom a reward for helping or a bribery to get me to keep helping?"

His eyes flickered to me. I loved his brutal honesty unless it wasn't directed at me; now, it was. "Both, and to make sure nobody gets killed in the process."

I released my breath through my nose. "Was that why you wanted to come over?"

"Partially. Partly because I wanna get out of the house." I nodded. He really wasn't stupid; he crawled closer and wrapped his arm around me. The affection wasn't all bad, just horribly misleading. I rested my head on his shoulder with an exhausted sigh. "You are simply the biggest pain in the ass I have ever met. But I'll take your wager."

He smirked and popped a Swedish fish between his teeth, "Good."


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

Rochelle was passed out in her own bed when I got home. Garrot told me why as soon as I got in our room to stow my stuff. Apparently...he'd been given three months or less for a life sentence.  
I sat on the bed next to him and propped up one leg. He was in the middle, so we might've both fit if he could've been moved. I laid my head back against the headboard and sighed. His eyes drooped, kind of rolling back in his head, and that was when I realized he had something hooked up to his vein. Immediately, I shot up. He knew why and placed his hand on my chest to hold me back. "Granite, I am going to break anyway. This was a necessary evil."

That was definitely enough to make Rochelle go to bed. I could've flipped a table. "Are you nuts?! You're going to get yourself killed! I'm trying to bottle a remedy for you, okay?! Veronica's venom has this quality to it, we can harness it, we can make it work for you-!"

"Morphine works for me," he muttered. His voice was thick with exhaustion. I wanted to slap him awake, but I held myself back. Fists balled, breath coming out in hisses rather than exhales, I glared at him and grabbed his face. He was limp, blinking slowly to keep himself conscious. "This is going to kill you," I hissed. "The pain's going to be worse now, don't you get it? You cracked stone once, that's what got us into this mess. Now you're doing it again. Garrot, fuckin' A man, don't you think?"

His eyes were surprisingly alert as he muttered, "I'm so tired, Granite. I've been like this for how long? People have to help me to the bathroom, now I don't even get that. I'm on the fast road to a seriously undignified demise, the least I can have is a decent sleep."

"You have Rochelle," I nearly hissed, "You have people who love you, I left everything I had for you-"

"You left it for her," Garrot snapped, "Don't lie to me. You like me, but nowhere near as much as you love Rochelle. You don't care half a wit whether I live or die because you know it's going to happen. It's just a matter of time, and then you'll be up her skirt to pretend to kiss away her tears." He tried to get up. My fists were balled and I fully intended to hit him, but he looked like shit. He looked like he was struggling to stay alive right now. I was holding myself back even if he wasn't; he was right, I was doing it for Rochelle. Same reason I was trying not to kill him myself.  
"You do not love her," Garrot snapped. "If you loved her, you would go. You would let her be here with me until she was ready to find you."

"She needs me here to take care of you. In case you didn't notice, you're not exactly a lightweight."

"I am in this bed where I will die! And I will not see her defiled! I love Rochelle with all that I am, I know her, I will die for her and I would do it again. Can you honestly, without doubt in your mind, say the same?"

I walked over and knelt by him. His arms were shaking and I knew he must've been in serious pain, but he managed to keep himself slightly elevated. "When we were fighting Pitch and them, she was the only thing I gave a damn about. They would've killed me. I would've been fine with that, because she would've had you. You think you know Roxy, well let me tell you somethin'...when you go, she's gonna find a way to blame herself again. Whether it was you or me, she wouldn't try to just live with the fact and move on. I'm not going to defile her, I can't even touch her without thinking about how much you touched her and how much she actually loved you. I can't hold her without thinking about how she wants to be with you. And either of us would've dealt with that, no matter how this worked out. There would always be the other man, and you know what? Yeah, you're gonna die, but you're not gonna be dead to me. You're not gonna be dead to her. I can't compete with the one she loved and lost, neither could you if it was me. We're both so fucked it's unbelievable, I don't even know how you don't know that."

His arms gave out. He fell back onto the bed and held his chest. Immediately, I went for the morphine bag. He grabbed my hand and shook his head. His eyes were fluttering spastically, like he was trying not to black out. I sat back down and held his hand. His breathing was rough, so I settled in like his big brother and muttered to him in the softest tone possible. "Just picture Roxy rubbing your forehead. Just focus on that. Start working the pain out from there."

"Shut up," Garrot breathed. I did. His fingers went slack and his rough breathing deepened. I set down his hand and got up to call a doctor; how we didn't have one living with us by now I had no idea. My energy sapped by the time I reached the stairs and I sat down on their edge. I ran my palms over my face, letting my head sink back against the wall. For a second, I dozed off, but then I got up and I slunk back into the bedroom. I took up residence on the edge of the bed, my head leaning back against the wall again, and I crossed my arms over my chest. As much of an ass as we could be to each other, he didn't deserve to be alone.

It literally felt like minutes before I started waking up again. I smiled slightly, sure the sensation I felt on my thigh was a dream, but my eyes opened slowly and I found Rochelle curled up to my hip, using me for a pillow. My head snapped up in shock only to be replaced with embarrassment. Oh. I fell asleep in her room.  
She held my leg under her arm, her head propped up on it while she slept. I rubbed my eyes and let them fall to her. God, she was gorgeous. Her hair was tucked up in a sock bun- I remembered when she had the time and mental composure to do one without the sock- and strands of loose hair had fallen free and stuck to her skin. She had on a pink button up top with white cherry blossoms crawling up the chest. The top button had slipped free, so I found myself admiring her gorgeously freckled chest. Slowly, I pried her arms off my leg. She rolled onto her back, head rolling comfortably on her pillows. It was so easy to forget we had so much to do. I laid my head on her chest and felt it rising and falling, slow breath after slow breath. She didn't breathe with her belly and it tempted me all the more. My fingers slid up the soft cotton to rest there and feel the light undulating of the breathing muscle under her tough skin.

She curled up against me, tucking her head into my shoulder and looping her arms slowly around my neck. I rose a brow. She pressed against me, cuddling in and making me melt like chocolate in a kid's hands. All that soft stone pressed up against me made something that didn't usually match stone kind of...match. She giggled, her fingers trailing down my shirt to my belt buckle and slipping just above it. Her legs pressed there; I pressed my lips together. "Did you bring the remote to bed or are you happy to see me?" she murmured, her voice so thick with sleep I didn't think she was really awake. I took a deep breath and exhaled. It shook. _Don't be creepy. Think of cows. Cows cows cows, cows eating grass. Nothing sexy about cows. Oh shit why isn't that working? Think of Clawdeen Wolf going on about fashion. Nope, nope nope that makes me think of Roxy. Shit._ She rubbed on me, pressing her lips to my neck. Normally I had better self control, but it had been months since she last touched me like that. Tiny, soft, warm kisses all over my neck, her breath leaving warm patches on my skin. I grabbed between my legs and squeezed until it hurt. _She's lucid dreaming, okay? That happens, Catrine talks about it all the time. Come on cats chase mice she's chasing you just THINK OF SOMETHING._

"Granite," she murmured. It wasn't exactly a murmur, it was half whimper half moan and I pushed her off and jumped out of bed. She woke up immediately, grabbing her blankets over herself. We were both incredibly red. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I pretended to be invisible, I really could fade into the wallpaper.

"What were you doing in my bed?" she asked. I heard the blankets fall and I knew there would be a nice view of her freckle-spattered skin. At least I wasn't holding my groin anymore, but I was pretty sure the evidence was still at attention. My face was hot. I didn't want to say a word, but she didn't say anything else. I opened an eye and found her looking away too.

"I fell asleep in the wrong room. I was tired." I admitted.

"What...exactly...?"

"You got close and...you know. We didn't exactly spoon but it wasn't foreplay either." She got even redder than I was. I went for the door. If it was even fully dawn, I didn't know, but she looked up and I stopped. I didn't even know why, there was just something about the tenderness in her eyes that made me do it. Rochelle had an extremely innocent face, but it was more than just her face. She was extremely innocent, a total soft-hearted romantic if one still existed. It wasn't fair for Garrot to sleep alone, I'd been totally neglecting Roxy sleeping alone. I went back. I slid into bed beside her and I pulled off my shirt. Her eyes widened. I laid down and motioned her to join me.

She sunk like a lead weight onto my chest. Her fingers splayed over my side, clutching gently to bring herself closer. I tucked her under my arms and she ran her fingers over my chest. It felt like heaven, even when she touched my tags. She peeked up at them, quirking her head slightly, "What are those, again?"

"My grandpa's from Korea. That's what my dad said. It was...keeping him fighting."

A small smile danced over her face. I liked seeing her smile again. Her head dropped to my shoulder and she ran her fingers over the indented letters. "You boys always love to fight for things."

I waited. She was so beautiful. Stone or not, she was soft. I dipped my head into her neck and kissed her. She giggled, "Granite..." I ran my hands over her. It was the first time in a very long time she seemed to surrender to it without fighting. Her fingers fell to the buttons of her shirt, but I tugged them away. They slid up into my hair, pressing me closer to her. I ran my mouth over her neck, dipping it over her chest and going back up the other side. The first rays of golden, autumn sunlight started trickling in, painting her bedroom in orange. I caught the back of her neck and crushed her mouth to mine. All of her, soft and sweet, became mine. Right now, right in this moment, I didn't have to compete with the other man. Her soft mouth under mine gave completely, lips parting to let my tongue inside. She squirmed and gasped as I rolled on top of her and pinned her under me, her little hips wriggling for freedom. I closed my eyes and I inhaled the scent of her skin. I could hear my pulse in my ears and very gently, she pushed me away. She was blushing. "I'm falling asleep with you kissing me and I feel really bad about that."

I laughed and shifted onto my side. My arms wound around her belly and I pressed her against me.  
"For the record," I murmured into her hair, "I'm really, really glad we met. Even if this got kind of...hellish."

"For the record, I want to make this up to you. I will when I feel like I can, I promise," she replied.

My fingers trailed over the front of her shirt. They paused at her diaphragm again and I let them slide up over her chest to settle over the exposed skin. She went still in surprise, and I waited. I shifted my fingers until I found the spot and tucked my head against hers. The stone defended her heart, I knew that, but with a little effort I had managed to find the sweet spot where I could still feel it beating under my hand.

"For somebody incredibly tough, your heart's pretty easy to get to."

"Shut up," she teased, "No more jabbing at me. Let's talk about how you're not even fully stone."

I let it slide with a laugh. She was tired and so was I, and arguing all morning wouldn't get us anywhere. I waited to fall asleep until she had, though. Call it instinct, but...I didn't want to wake up in three hours and think it was a dream.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

Poor Rochelle.  
She glanced up the stairs almost constantly to listen to the boys, but we both knew she didn't need to. She couldn't sit still; she paced the tile floor of the kitchen so fast I thought her toe-talons were going to carve ruts. "Have you sat down at all since you got home?" I finally broke the silence, but she hardly seemed to notice. There were people in the main room, the boys upstairs and Rochelle had no place to go of her own. I rose from my chair and pulled her close, stopping her pacing. Hesitantly, she turned and confided, "Granite fell asleep in my bedroom last night."

I rose a brow, "I thought you were worried that he might move on with someone else?"

She shrugged. "I was. He was tired and wandered in..." Her cheeks flushed. My eyes widened. I almost felt obliged to remind her that her actual boyfriend was bedridden. She ran her fingers through her teal-streaked bubblegum pink locks and focused her eyes on me. "Nothing changed."

"_Rochelle._"

"Granite loves me unconditionally," she whispered, "Making him wait is so unfair. But this morning...I felt him next to me and I woke to him, and he held me...I don't understand how I can love them both so much."

The heart was a very stupid and traitorous thing. I suppose everyone loved two people at the same time at some point in their life. It must've been a celestial rite of passage, and like all of them, it seemed doomed to work out either decently or horribly. I squeezed her shoulder, even though it didn't feel like she felt it at all. "Just try to keep in mind that he is just a boy. He doesn't even know how old he is, he was born in that enclosure-"

"He was born in a freakshow," Rochelle corrected me. It didn't make anyone's case any better. "And exactly, for all you know he could be older than Garrot and I." She must not have realized she was reaffirming my point. I rubbed her arm. Her eyes fell and she hugged her arms across her chest. "We talked about it the other night when Granite was away. He said he does not want me to hesitate to go to him when I feel like I am in need of someone. The way Garrot talks, Catrine...it's like he's already dead."

I wrapped my arms around her before she could become inconsolable. "He probably feels that way," I murmured. "Disabilities, especially on the decline of health, they feel like lead sails to a paper anchor." I hoped she knew I understood that much. I hoped she knew her tears made my stomach sink and panic settle in the back of my throat. For being stone, Rochelle was very fragile, even more fragile than Manny seemed to think I was. There was a part of me that knew how deeply she and Garrot had loved each other for so long, the same part that was terrified she wouldn't last once he had passed. She squeezed me, reminding me that she was made of stone, and I tried to steel my faith the way my boyfriend had the ability to. I made a mental note to ask Manny's opinion when we had left; for a boy people had found to be hardly more than a bully, he was rather accurate with his conclusions on people. Rochelle, the innocent, the naieve, she feared everything. She feared love, she feared heartbreak, she had tried to break her own rules only to find herself further ensnared by them. So she had relinquished to being the Rochelle I had always known as the gloom had lapsed over her and her life. The boys guffawed upstairs. She released me to wander toward the window. It was beginning to rain, the passing shower hardly darkening the sky, and yet it seemed the mild gray still had enough force to cascade sound over the shingles above us. I reached out and massaged her arms, "Rochelle..."

"I need you to come shopping with me," she murmured and wiped her eyes. "Things are piling up. We need shelves...bookcases. Paint. I want to change things, I want to make them better."

Work could be cleansing, but it wouldn't heal her. She looked at me desperately, willing me to understand. I wound a lock of hair around my finger, "Why did you cut it?"

"Because I'm tired," she murmured. The ends that dipped against her shoulders curled at the edges with more life than she seemed to have in her entire body now that she had gone still. I forced a smile, "I can make coffee-"

She sunk into the chair I had occupied and placed her head back against the windowpane. "It's a very deep tired, _ami_. I'm tired of pain." I nodded. "Frankly, I'm tired of living." Her eyes closed, mine widened again. She drew her knees up and propped her feet at the edge of the chair. As she rubbed her palms over her eyes, she murmured, "I'll take that coffee."

I nodded and crossed her tiny kitchen to the counter. Her father's dark roast sat in the door, pre-bagged. I put in a filter and a few scoops and filled the water to the very top before turning it on to roast. It didn't take long to attract someone's attention.  
Granite came bounding down the stairs barefoot and took a cup out of the cabinet and set it beside the one I set out for Rochelle. He glanced to me and rose his brows innocently. I waved him off upstairs, "I don't suppose you three want anything else?"

"Food?" he asked, continuing the charade of innocence. I nudged him up the stairs and shrugged, "Make it yourself."

He ducked around the stairwell to stick his tongue out at me before running away. I heard her emit a short laugh, something like a cross between a scoff, a sigh and a sob. While the coffee brewed, I made the three of them ham and bacon sandwiches. Pretend as I like that Rochelle was stable enough to remain intact, her words managed to make me cease everything I was doing.  
"Will you give up on me?"

I snapped around and stared at her in dismay. She looked bored, tired, her knees drawn all the way up to her chest and her arms folded across them. Her mouth, from which the horrid question was uttered, tucked behind her forearm while her eyes drooped in the after-effect of emotional exhaustion. I wanted to scream at her. _Of course not, you overdramatic fool. You are my best friend and flawed as you may be, you will emerge alright. Garrot is seeing to that and Granite is more than capable of withholding his boyish idiocy long enough to take care of you. Look at Manny. I have blind faith in these boys since Salem seems to breed a strange kind lacking natural male stupidity._ I would've liked to use those words, but they were stuck in my throat along with my breath. I stared at her in dismay. She nodded as if she understood, and I crossed the room to wrap her tightly in my grip.

"Never, Rochelle," I breathed into her hair. "You will be alright."

"No," she whispered, "I won't be. The longer Garrot suffers, the more it's going to pain me. I keep thinking...I keep clinging to this stupid hope that he may last. Simply be paralyzed and in pain, and how deeply happy I would be to see him live... It's so selfish, Catrine. But I still cannot bring myself to want him to die, even if it would end his pain."

"No one wants Garrot to die," I murmured as I caressed her hair. "Not even Granite. You know he would've rather won you another way."

She and I both knew he wouldn't have. If he had given his life for her, perhaps she would've felt obliged to him. Garrot would've been mildly grateful and allowed her to entertain the idea, but would've kept her from fully mourning. I knew that, though I also knew she didn't. There was no if for her, only what was. Rochelle didn't understand that sometimes the largest difficulties were fated. They were life changing. They were necessary.

"Do you remember when I moved in?" I murmured. The coffee pot was steaming, so I clicked the power button on the maker and poured their coffee in their respective cups. Rochelle's eyes flickered upward, but she didn't speak. Waiting for my point, I suppose. I found the sugar and the heavy cream and sweetened hers. "I died, Rochelle. It took that to bring Manny from his shell. Maybe it will take a death to make the two of you see how deeply you depend upon each other."

She rolled her eyes and rested her head on the table. I set her cup beside her and finished making the sandwiches. While each cooked individually, I let the crackle-pop of bacon grease fill our silence. Finally, Rochelle lifted her head and she murmured, "What if we don't? What if Garrot is the only thing keeping us together?"

"And once you become attainable he will give up," I finished for her. She nodded. I rolled my eyes. "Rochelle, I am going to be honest. I thought you had sex with him this morning until you told me otherwise."

Her eyes flicked to the main room as if telling me to watch my volume. I put my hands on my hips. "He had the chance. If all he wanted was a chase, a thrill, he could have it at any given moment. It's not like you've put up much of a fight in the first place. That boy, make no mistake, adores you."

Heavier footsteps approached. She glanced at the stairs and I watched her, waiting for her to address my words. Manny ducked under the doorway and crossed the room to me. I tugged him away from the counter by his sleeve and he bent to kiss my cheek. "Almost done?" I nodded. "Cool. I'm starving."

The timer went off. I picked up the bacon with timid fingertips and tossed a few slices on each sandwich. Manny was practically salivating, but before I passed him the food, I smiled innocently. "Manny-"

"Don't you dare," Rochelle said over me. He rose a brow. I smiled sweetly, promising in the look we traded to tell him later, and I kissed him very lightly on the nose. "I love you."

He grinned and tugged me in, pressing a firm kiss to my forehead. I giggled at his enthusiasm. "I love ya too kitten," he murmured to me. Sandwiches in hand, he returned to the others and I shot Rochelle a look. She rolled her eyes, "Just because you can cook doesn't make you any different than me."

I smirked, "It wasn't the cooking I was implying."

She went pink and shot me an even more murderous look. I simply shrugged in understanding. "Keep an eye on him, Rochelle. Boys know nothing better than how to get themselves in trouble."


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

I was sleeping when something small and plastic smacked into my chest. It shouldn't have awoken me, but layers of taffeta was making me warm. I stirred, feeling around until I felt the familiar dipped indentations on a hanger's curve. Against my will, I shifted into a sitting position and slowly opened my eyes.

Opal was waiting on her side of the room, a white pleated boating dress hugging her breasts and threatening to show off more than even she would be comfortable with. I looked down at the fabric in my hands, intent on questioning her sanity when I paused. My eyes flashed up to her. "Oh my god, Opie...where did you get this?"

"That loser Shane decided he was going to try to win my love with presents and you're my size. Happy birthday."  
I didn't even bother asking what loser Shane she was talking about, because it was gorgeous. It was a little much with her already shiny skin tone, but it was gorgeous nonetheless. It was like a prom dress with a little, clear halter strap; it might've been more teenage-suited if there was more than just the little amber stone between the breasts. My face went red; there were soft, padded cups covered by the interior slip. It was backless. The silky fabric was a tawny neutral covered in a gently shimmering silver patterned top layer. The patterning increased as it went lower, ending in a spurt of white taffeta from a built-in dual layer petticoat. I got up and held it up against my sweats; it came down just above my ankles. My eyes flashed up to Opal's. She smirked and gestured to our mutual bathroom.

"I can't take this," I replied.

"Oh my god. I'm not saying wear it out tomorrow, I'm just saying. It's not my color." If that was a pun on her sparkling, it missed me completely. I took it immediately into the closet and put it up on a hanger. She was flitting around the room in her white pleather flats with the sewn-on fabric bows, transferring things to a little silver clutch purse. I rose a brow. She smiled slightly, "I did keep this."

I shook my head. "Again?"

"I have a busy social life," she teased. I was tempted to ask if that loser Shane was getting a date, but knowing her, she'd pawned him off on Aaron. She turned to me with a teasing look as she clasped the front of her bag shut. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"I'm exhausted," I laughed. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the handle of the door, "Honestly, it wouldn't kill you to invite your boy toy over for a play date-"

I pulled it open for her and pushed her out, directly into the arms of a rather Satanic looking guy waiting on the other side. His hand had been raised to knock, but he caught her instead. Her face went red. I guessed this was Shane? He looked at me with the same questioning and reached out to pull the door shut. I waited on the other side, listening to the murmured voices with my lips pursed. Eventually, their footsteps faded away and I was left alone again. I had completely intended to make myself at home in my bed, but there was a sharp slam, like a car had come crashing through the wall, in the hallway. It might not have been shocking if we hadn't been on the third floor.

I ran to the door and threw it open only to have my best friend slam her body into it. My hair was strewn across my face very suddenly; call it paranoia, but my first thought was that a plane had hit the building.

"Opie!" I shouted, attempting to wrench it from her.

"No, no, no! Stay there! Do you hear me?! Stay there!"

I was waiting for some kind of roaring. Some kind of storm or a signal, but instead there was only silence. Ear-piercing, utterly vacuous silence. I opened my mouth to scream for Opal again when something very strange happened very quickly. As if something had exploded, I felt heat. It was slow at first, building, and then a rush. A slam. The door flew open. Opal fell in. I fell backward. She threw herself on top of me and pressed the flat side of her purse over my face to block me from the heat. I clung to her in return. If that was going to be it, we'd at least get to go together.

Her entire body went rigid and it was pulled, forcefully, away from mine. I threw her purse aside, letting it skitter across the floor under my bed, and launched myself upward. Not even all the poison and fangs in the world could make the guy holding her up bat an eye. He had her by the neck, white-blue eyes locked with mine like a yeti's ice crystal. He looked like a spirit. With the tattoos on his face, the deep surgical slices over his chest, I imagined he was scary on a good day. Opal looked at me, but I wasn't faltering because of his looks or the fact that he probably could've had me by the neck quickly too; I knew his jacket. Granite had one just like that.

"Girls," he said in a voice toned with practiced patience. "Let's have ourselves a nice little talk."

My eyes flicked back to the male behind him, the one who looked even more Satanic than he did. He looked at me, quirked a brow and unleashed a breath of fire. Judging by the frayed electrical cord peeking out from the elevator shaft behind him, they had been the ones making the noise. The spirit boy threw my best friend seemingly with all of his force into the room. She flew like a rag doll, slamming shoulders first into the wall hard enough to leave a hole. I ran to her. He swaggered in like he owned our room and everything in it, the both of us included. His friend shut the door behind him and waited outside. Did anyone even do that outside of really arrogant superhero movie villains anymore?

Opal blinked. I caught her face to try to bring her back to attention, but he caught my hands. I hissed in defensive shock. He dragged me away from her like I weighed absolutely nothing. "Shh. No one has to get hurt if you just talk with me."

"Big mistake." My teeth clamped down on his hand as my foot slammed into the instep of his. I turned to slam my palm into his face, but he hadn't flinched. He looked at my teeth embedded in his hand and raised the other. I regained sensory control on the floor. He had heavy boots that sat on either side of me, and very promptly, so did he. He weighed more than Granite. I slammed myself upward; he trapped my wrists in his hands. A scream of pain burst out of my mouth before I fully registered I had made the sound. Sharp, agonizing pain ripped through my lower body. He shifted. Something snapped. I gave, opening my hands and curling my toes in my socks.

"Are you through fighting?" he asked. I was being crushed. I wanted to scream and kick and cry, but it wouldn't get me anywhere. He got up suddenly. With the momentum of his hold, he tossed me with the same amount of rag-doll gentility onto my bed. At the very least, my hip cracked, and it was singing. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "I've spent a very long time looking for someone you seem to care about quite a bit. How about you just make it easy on me and tell me where to find him?"

I spit in his face. It was laced with the poison dripping from my fangs. He seemed to notice and turned his face so the spit hit his cheek and rolled off. He opened his eyes, looked me straight in mine, and slammed his closed fist down on my hip. If it wasn't broken before, it shattered. I screamed.

"If your fangs weren't useless outside your head, I'd rip them off!" he shouted. My sides felt like they were splitting. I wanted to fold into myself, but my body didn't want to move anymore. He slammed his stone fist into the wall a few times, punching holes like a stapler. He withdrew then, crossing the room and slamming Opal back into the wall. She cried out. I forced myself to move again, ignoring the brutal pain to scramble up and over to her bed to fling myself against his back and rip at the jacket on his shoulders. "Stop! STOP! I'll tell you whatever you want!"

His eyes flicked to me as if asking me _really._ Challenging me, threatening me. He slammed his closed fist into her mouth anyway. She blacked out instantly. Her hands dropped off his arms and I saw the blood pour from her nose. He dropped her without looking. When she hit the floor, crumpled like forgotten notes, something splattered from her mouth. It took me a second to realize it was blood and teeth. My lips trembled. He didn't have to touch me to get me to talk, he knew that. He met my level anyway and guided my face toward his with a finger on my chin.

"Where is Granite?"

"I don't know the address," I whispered, "I just know the house. It's a few blocks from here, at the edge of the city. The fountain i-in Sunstone Plaza...it's right off the main road. Right across the street from the house with the purple roses."

He withdrew his hand and I fell off the bed. Pain shot through my side, but my hands went through the blood to clean her airways. Shakily, I touched her neck, feeling for a pulse. Soft and erratic, I found it. My eyes blurred with tears; there was too much blood for something important to not have broken. I cradled her face, intending to hold her head in my lap until she woke up or until someone came to help us, but he grabbed my shoulder and dragged me away. I screamed, partially in defiance and partially in pain. Hauling me to my feet, he dragged me under his arm. I screamed and kicked with my good foot, trying to free myself. His arm came down on my opposite side like a vice, cutting off my breath and probably my circulation with that hit. My line of sight cleared when the tears fell. He hauled me out of my room and toward the service stairs.

"Don't leave her," I whispered, "Please. Please, she'll die, please."

His partner didn't follow. He went into the dorm. The spirit-looking boy chuckled and it sounded like the devil's himself. "Don't worry, she won't be alone. Keeping her alive is quite the incentive for you, isn't it?"

My jaw dropped. I struggled, earning a tighter squeeze. My fangs were dripping venom and I didn't want to run, I wanted to fight. Pain or no pain, my feet scraped the ground and I grabbed the opposite railing. He might've been strong, but I could be too. Searing, ripping, internal-bleeding-is-likely pain slammed up my body as I slammed myself forward and lurched him back. He pushed on my stomach and sent me flying. I hit the concrete wall hard enough to see stars before I fell, head first, down the last flight to the ground floor. My head snapped up instantly and I hissed, teeth bared with the promise of violence.

"That's a shame," he muttered. "Shetani liked her."

The pit of my aching stomach told me that he would've liked her either way. I hissed, venom dripping from my fangs while I heard the sharp, sudden scream. He waited patiently, his hands folded together behind his back, listening to her scream. I didn't want to know. To know would've made me cry, and I had to be strong.  
It was when she stopped and he smiled that I broke.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

I was helping Roxy make dinner when my phone went off. Expecting my parents, I popped it out and tossed it up to my ear, "Hello?"

When people say that flashbacks gave them tunnel vision, they weren't kidding. I forgot where I was. The hitched breath, the pained whimper of a phone on speaker sounded painfully familiar. I thought I felt cold metal under my bare feet. The quiet tone of a dead man reached my ears, snapping me back to the reality of air conditioned tile. "Well, no surprise. You'll pick up her calls and not mine."

I looked desperately around Rochelle's kitchen, half expecting to find purple unicorns in the windows. It had to be a drug trip or something, over exhaustion...something that wasn't the reality in my ears. A very familiar, tender whimper reached my eardrum and I stumbled out of the room. I sunk onto the floor beside the couch, clutching the arm, and hoped my talons didn't catch as they dragged downward.  
"Can you hear me, you little punk? Or are you just pretending I'm not there? Because she can hear me, can't you sweetie?"

Veronica cried out. I snapped to my feet, "Don't touch her, you prick!"

I heard him laugh. She was crying; my imagination was going nuts. He didn't acknowledge her again, though the sound didn't cease. "You think it matters what you want? You tried to kill me. You managed to get my friends in trouble...or did you forget that they were _ours_ once?"

"Dead men don't call collect."

"Then maybe you should've made sure I was dead." It sounded crazy beyond all fucking belief. Dracula had cracked his neck completely off and smashed his brains over the pavement like he was stepping on a soda can; there wasn't any _making sure he was dead._ "How?" I hissed into the mouthpiece. There was a crack of stone on skin. Veronica's crying stopped, and I heard him curse. Good girl.  
"Say goodbye, sweetheart," he told her. Immediately, I remembered why I left Roxy alone in the kitchen in the first place. She was staring at me like I lost my mind. I bolted out. She called my name, but I ran over to the house across the street and did the one logical thing I could; I broke into their garage and tore the tarp off Garrot's car. Grabbing the spares off the rack, I wrenched open the door and threw it in reverse as soon as I hit the garage door release. Rochelle tore out of the house to yell to me, but I threw the door shut just before I got onto the street. "Don't you fucking touch her, Pitch!"

"You're a bit late. For a white knight, you certainly can't do your job."

I was flooring it. There wasn't much gas and it hadn't run in a while, but it tore off toward the university good enough. I was burning inside, my fists balled around the wheel. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you destroyed me. So I'm going to destroy you. Every single thing you love, one at a time. You left Salem, you made that easy for me. Those kids were the easiest to kill. Soft little skulls barely had any give at all."

I was going to be sick. I didn't have the time. I wished I could've gunned it like the bike.

"This is your move, Granite. When the time is right...you'll know where to find me."

"Why don't you fight me like a man?!" I shouted into the receiver. "Nobody else had to be hurt, Pitch! This is between you and me, you should've kept it between you and me in the first place or I wouldn't have gotten your bitch ass!"

"You couldn't get me at all! I would've had you begging for mercy soon enough if that meddling vampire hadn't gotten involved! That's all you do, Granite, you let other people fight your battles for you! You can't hide behind them any longer." The call ended with a concussive crack. I tore around the bend and drove directly into the courtyard. I threw open the door and slammed it shut, dashing across the quad to her dorm. Throwing open the main door made me pause. Her phone was smashed to bits at my feet. Instinct pulled me out the door to go after him. I went the other way. I felt the corners of my mouth pulling down as I saw the stairwell propped open and ducked inside.

The stairs were covered in blood. It dripped out of her mouth and out of gashes on her sides and face. Her legs were bent askew; I knew that kind of look just as well as he did. He'd vice-crushed her in his bare hands. The sight of shattered bones was almost enough to make me turn away, but her pretty head lolled and I caught sight of her hair- her flawless, pin-straight fawn brown hair caked in her own blood, some dry and some not. My heart was beating like a kettle drum. Her hands laid on the stairs, wrists bent back limply. They'd been broken, but I half expected them to be held in place by crucifixion. What got me, though, was the gashes in her own arms. The tracings of her teeth, even deeper wounds where her python fangs had sunk.

"Granite," she gasped. I sunk into the blood next to her. I scooped her up; she didn't wince. Her saliva was a drug, a sedative and an anesthetic. I could still feel how warm she was and I knew her insides had been crushed too. Her bloody fangs were broken too. Some had been beaten cleanly out of her mouth, a few hung there in broken regular teeth, one of her poison fangs included. She blinked slowly, tucking her head into my shoulder. "He had a partner," she whispered. "Demon, probably. Opal thought he went here, thought his name was Shane...it was something else. Setani, something like that. He looked like...a bad Darth Maul."

I pressed my hand to her diaphragm. The muscle quivered at the touch. Her ribs felt like jelly and she smiled very lightly. "I'm not hurting. That's the best part."

"You're still the second person I have to hold in my arms while they die," I murmured.

"First," she whispered. "The other one isn't dead yet."

I shook my head. "My mom was the first."

She lifted her hand as best she could and tried to put her fingers through mine. I had to help her. She was shaking, her head on my arm. "I'll be sure to mention how you turned out."

I listened to her breathe. I tried to commit the sound to memory, but I didn't want to. Her lungs were probably filling with blood and body fluid. It got rougher and rougher until she whispered, "Poison. That's how I'm going to die, not...not like this. There's more poison in my system right now than I'd need to down a werewolf..."

I couldn't say I was surprised. I leaned my forehead on hers. "You're so stubborn."

She laughed. She bared her bloody teeth and she laughed. Her eyes were falling closed, so I pressed my lips to them. She started going limp in my arms, piece by piece. I kissed her clearly broken nose. I kissed her cheeks. Her heart stopped and her muscles relaxed, and the soft sound of an undignified death reached my ears. I didn't let go of her until she got cold and sirens came.

Mechanically, I went up the stairs and into the scorched hall. It had been abandoned hastily and the elevator was busted. Her friend was dead in their bed, thankfully not burned alive. I got a little bit of satisfaction seeing Opal looking rather at peace. Her mouth was open, marks around her neck proof enough that the life literally had to be choked out of her, but her eyes were closed. My body sunk to the floor the way a chunk of rock sunk in the ocean. It was slow like folding paper. I laid my head on my arms and I sighed.

Rochelle came before the police; how surprised even me. She looked around in shock and dismay, her chest heaving like she'd run up a completely different flight of stairs and gone room to room to find me. She probably had. I closed my eyes and fell onto the floor next to her bed. She crossed the room to me and sunk down at my side, propping my head up in her hands.

There was blood on me and my hands, and it was indirectly, as always, my own fault.

...

"He's sleeping."

"He's exhausted, actually."

"Mother, please."

It took me a moment to distinguish between Garrot and Rochelle's voices. I was laying on something. It was probably him. His painkiller was dead, so why did he decided to keep me laying on him? Kicks. Definitely kicks.

"He needs his rest," Rochelle insisted. "Please, just give us time."

"He fell asleep at a crime scene," someone insisted. I wouldn't call that the right word; became overwhelmed with grief was probably better terminology. "There's something wrong with him." Yeah, it's called growing up in a freak show. I ended up with a lot of unresolved issues, okay? Every teenager did. When you were young and stupid, you thought you were invincible enough to just get over things. Me? I knew better. So I made no effort to get up while they talked over me. I just listened while she shut the door and sighed.

"What happened?" Garrot asked.

"He fell asleep as the police came. They had to help me carry him down the stairs." She paused, her tone becoming slightly amused. "He stole your car."

Garrot laughed out loud, "It's not technically stealing, I left it to him anyway."

I could hear real amusement in her tone. She was getting better. I didn't know how I didn't notice sooner. She sat on the other side of us, putting enough weight on the bed that the headboard creaked. "He ran across the street, broke into your garage, found the keys and took off in your car, breaking every major traffic law in the process." I forgot they didn't drive on the right side of the road. Whoops.

His hand brushed her lower back. "He was in shock, cherie. He needed to be free quickly."

I tucked my head closer under my arm. Neither noticed the shift.

"Rochelle," Garrot murmured, "He has lost much. Please...do not let him blame himself for this too."

Her lips made that sweet little cartoon kiss sound when she kissed his forehead. "The problem is, amour...I'm afraid he already does."


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14_

Granite slept like a brick for the foreseeable day. When he woke, it was for perhaps an hour at a time to eat, use the bathroom and relocate to a new sleeping location. Now I had the both of them to be worried about.

Garrot propped up in bed, perfectly content as he balanced his laptop on his legs. "How is college, mon ami?"

"Can't complain," Deuce replied. "Deenie's grateful I'm the one cooking. She's working her ass off man. I think she thinks she peaked in high school or something."

"And Cleo?" he asked.

"Rich beyond all belief and not in need of a degree or a job?" Deuce offered with a laugh. I fluffed my boyfriend's pillows behind his head and kissed his cheek, giving my friend a wave. Deuce broke into a classic Greek smile, his pearly ivory teeth bared completely, the two incisors a little sharper than the rest. "Hey Rochelle."

"How is it in Salem?" I asked.

"It's Salem," he replied. He was smiling, but I got the sense he was withholding information. My brows knit and I took up the space beside Garrot's elbow at the edge of his bed. "Is something wrong?"

The look of composure changed into one of sympathy. I didn't need to see his eyes to know that. He rubbed his neck and his snakes drooped slightly. "Is Granite around?"

I shook my head, "He is asleep."

"Have him call me when he gets up, okay?" Deuce replied. "I'd rather he hear it from one of us and not...you know."

Garrot glanced to me with raised brows before looking back to Deuce. "Hear what?"

The gorgon boy's eyes fell to the keys before lifting back to us. His glasses weren't mirrored enough to hide that from me. I pretended I hadn't seen the internal struggle while he sought words he didn't have.  
"His family's dead," he finally said quietly. "Cops said there was a gas leak and something sparked. They...don't exactly have bodies or anything..."

"Is there any chance?" Garrot asked, still clinging to a hope I didn't realize he had. Unfortunately, I knew all too well what it meant. Everything he didn't have with him was gone, and that was all he had in this world. I swallowed my emotions as best I could. His family, the bike he worked so hard on, all the past he left behind, gone as if it had never existed for the second time in his life. Garrot placed his hand on my knee and squeezed lightly, "We will take care of him."

My eyes flickered to him. His eyes shone with a peace he hadn't had in a very long time. Why he didn't call Deuce more often was beyond me; this was probably the most normal he had felt in a long time. I rubbed his shoulder and nodded; they had grown to be like brothers. For that I was incredibly grateful, something Garrot understood well. Deuce watched us and sighed, "Rochelle...I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help you guys..."

I smiled at him with the most strength I could. These were not his burdens, they didn't need to be unloaded on anyone else. Catrine was my confiding ear already, I didn't need to load all of them down with my problems. "We will manage," I replied, my lips quirking in a slight smile in his direction. Clawdeen came into the back of the frame with a notebook in hand and upon taking notice of us, charged to the computer and pushed him slightly out of the way, "Garrot! Rochelle!"

We both beamed. "Hello, Clawdeen," Garrot said for us both. Deuce seemed to be right; she looked like she had been working herself half to death. Her natural claws were chipped and dull, her hair tied back in a messy, un-brushed ponytail and her arms were lined in unshaven chestnut fur. There were dark circles under her eye and I couldn't help but smile sympathetically; she had her joy keeping her awake at night, her work and her ambition...I had survival. We must've looked quite a bit alike, the girl who lived and the girl who appeared to so others didn't fear she had truly passed in silence. My smile felt unnaturally composed on my face. She saw right through it, but she kept her bright and rather cheesy smile anyway. "You guys look great. Scaris is treating you well."

"It's cold and it's wet," Garrot laughed, "We're indoors, that's why."

They glanced at each other behind the screen and a piece of me broke again. They were so happy. He was going to go make them dinner, or lunch or whatever meal based on what time it was there, she was going to let their children crawl all over her while she sketched for her classes, and they were going to be able to move and live and meet their life expectancies with each other. It was just one glance, one fatigued and one supportive meeting of the eyes, but it still slammed into the center of my chest and knocked the breath out of me. Garrot squeezed my knee again and changed the subject, "So, how are your siblings, Clawdeen?"

"Still young and stupid," she laughed. "Howleen hasn't made my choices yet, so I can't say they're all bad."

Deuce rolled his eyes behind his glasses. I could sense they had this talk before. I wished I'd had a talk with Garrot besides something other than his health and his eventual demise. Both of their eyes flicked to me before Clawdeen asked their mutually burning question. "How're you doing, Garrot?" There was even a different tone for that question. She had been very bright and lively for the rest of her speaking, she made her words softer for him. A tender subject required tender speaking.

"Better than expected," he said vibrantly, truthfully. "I should be much worse than I am, but I have an amazing nurse, who I hope will actually study it when the time comes..."

I ran my fingers over his cheek, shaking my head slowly. _I don't want to talk about this right now, _I begged with my eyes. He kissed my fingertips. It took all of my self restraint not to cry. Clawdeen watched me with such sympathy and such pity that it hurt. Deuce, at the very least, understood that I didn't want to be pitied. I wanted to leave, but I had no excuse. I simply forced my smile to remain composed and stared into his eyes. "You're strong, Garrot. You can make it."

I was lying through my teeth and the shards of a heart being crushed in a vice. He smiled with cynical wit in his eyes. It was the only tainting that he had allowed to take place in his beautiful disposition, but thankfully, he didn't say anything. The door opened and Granite shuffled in. He went directly to our bathroom and shut the door. The couple on our video call perked up and remained silent. I glanced to him. He nodded in silent acknowledgement of my duty to our guest. I had to force myself to kiss his forehead, wave silently to our friends and rise to my feet. He washed up and wandered out moments later with my steps quick in pursuit of his. This time, he trailed down the back staircase. He was still in his jeans and his undershirt, his hair completely amiss and teeth un-brushed. I followed, "I can make you something-"

"Make me die," he muttered.

The moment his feet hit the landing, I grabbed him to make him turn and slapped him with all the force in my body. He recoiled and I held my hand to my chest, but it seemed to wake him up. "Shit! _Jesus_ Roxy! What the fuck was that?!"

He might've been joking, but I was not in the mood to hear jokes. I stepped off the stairs and I hit him again with the same hand. My hand stung. I went in for a third and he finally grabbed my wrist and pulled me flush against his chest. My breath caught in my lungs for a reason totally unrelated to the pain throbbing in my heart. _Oh god. He's been asleep all day, he should not be this attractive. He's dirty and...and not prepared, he's not prepared for that. Stop it._ Still, I was melting under his gaze. My eyes were welling up and I couldn't control them. My hand went flat against his chest to keep space between us, but my elbow bent. He held me so I felt close enough to feel all of his muscle against me. My gaze flicked from my hand over his heart to his firm, completely guarded eyes. "How much do you know?" I murmured to him.

"My family's dead and so's my friend. I'm lucky I haven't lost more than that," he whispered. He reached up and tangled his fingers in my hair suddenly, catching me by surprise. His expression shifted from firm guardedness to open desperation. I had seen that look before in a dying man. It sent tears spilling free as his mouth crushed onto mine. I locked my fingers in his shirt. The tender material ripped under my talons. He pressed me back against the counter, clawing at my shirt in an attempt to free me from it. I felt my blood blaze and my cheeks flushed shamefully. I pushed his shoulders back, but his mouth was so fierce on mine and my knees crumbled beneath me to keep us close. He was the only affection I could allow myself, the only selfish attention I could grasp at. Neither of them knew how much the guilt of what I'd done was eating me. I had gotten Garrot hurt in the first place, but I was still clinging to them both. I should've let go. I should've never tried to pursue anyone else. I shoved his shoulders, but it didn't help. He clung to me like I was the only thing keeping him alive, his tongue forcefully splitting my lips and clashing against my own in a swan-dive of dominance.

My cheeks were wet and I sobbed into his mouth as I surrendered. His lips became tender slowly, withdrawing to kiss away my tears. His hands slipped up to my cheeks, cradling my face near his. His lips pressed to my nose, my forehead, my cheeks, my eyes again. I closed them and clutched his forearms. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he murmured, "That was out of line. I gotta think about you, baby. Stone or not, you're not stone inside."

Goddamn him. Goddamn him for taking away every reason for me to push him away with minimal guilt. Goddamn him for making me love him, just...damn him. He made me so angry and so happy at the same time, it just wasn't fair. Our foreheads pressed together and I whispered through my shaky breaths, "What are you going to do?"

"Fight back," he murmured. "It's all I can do, baby."

"This man is the same one who hurt Garrot," I whispered, "I want to help you."

He laughed softly, soft stone lips pressing to my own lightly. "Okay, babe. Whatever you say." Garrot would've fought me tooth and nail, but perhaps this was the thing about Granite that made him redeemable at all times. He picked his battles. He knew I didn't have the strength to fight them all anymore. He held me like a treasure, his fingers toying with the ends of my hair while my head sunk to his shoulder like a lead weight. It should not have been fair nor possible for two men as spectacular as these to enter my life, but they had.

"Roxy," he murmured, "It's okay not to be okay. You don't have to hold it together for us all the time."

But I did. I had done my crying, crying would only help so much. Garrot was my responsibility, as was he. One set of talons laced in the back of his shirt while the other clinked against his as our fingers locked. He nuzzled the side of my head, his breath stirring my hair. "Roxy baby...my little tough girl. You're gonna make such a good street fighter."

"Stop teasing me," I replied. Try as I might, he just smiled cutely and made sure that any of my anger that could've been real remained only amusement.


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

So I was kind of screwed, I got that. Rochelle's family went out for a while, leaving the three of us alone. I took the prime opportunity the quiet offered and called the guys. They must've been busy with guy's night or something, because they were all there. "Yo, Deuce," I called over. I must've been on speaker phone, because at least five guys immediately called my name. I grinned. "How's life going, bro?!"

He laughed, "It's going!" The speaker was removed, isolating the background noise between the both of us. "How's everything been in Scaris, man?"

"French," I replied. He laughed again. Door hinges squeaked and the noise died considerably. I resisted the urge to fall back asleep, laying in my bed as I was. My eyes were drooping anyway, so I closed them and focused on the sound of crunching gravel. I imagined him at a biker bar, with the rough, tough type. Deuce might've been on the preppy side of punk and looked kinda pretty, but I knew for a fact he had guts. Even the pretty guys in Salem had guts. "Some kind 'a party?"

"Some of the older guys in the wolf pack man a bar. Rom and Clawd got us in." His crunching footsteps stopped. I tried picturing a werewolf bar in my mind and kept coming back to the rough and tumble biker bar in the middle of nowhere, just lines of bikes and trucks in a gravel driveway with one of those old saloon railings where people leaned when they needed air and somewhere to puke. I heard the little bump of him hopping up on the back of a truck, probably Deenie's dad's. Even with everything weighing me down, I felt like I was there. I imagined hopping up next to him and talked to him like I had. "So, be honest with me man...Clawdeen."

He grinned, "They can hear me."

"Nice!" It felt like a declaration of sanity. There was still a part of me that could really admire a good lookin' woman, that wanted to go home and fuck around with the guys. So much of me had gone Wolverine, calling it my duty to be with Rochelle when I was the one who got Garrot in trouble, taking on even more so-called duty to avenge everybody I loved now that Pitch was alive. That was really my duty. My lungs froze for a moment when the thought crossed my mind that maybe if I hadn't been with her, she would've been first. She might've also been the last. No point in killing my family when he took everything I cared about away, where was the fun in that? He wasn't going to fight fair. He was picking off people I loved from lesser to greater. My friends, my family...then Roxy.

"So I heard you heard," Deuce said in my ear.

"What about the others?" I muttered.

"Everybody here is cool, man. When Rom found out, he went over to Bram's place and came back with a chisel and a hammer. Apparently he mounted it in the front window for a couple days. But seriously, with Abbey keeping him company, he didn't need it."

I tried my best Abbey voice. "In Soviet Russia, Yeti break Gargoyle."

"In real life, Yeti break Gargoyle," Deuce replied. I could tell he was smiling. The weight was lifting off my chest a little. I felt free-er. More alive. I wanted to go downstairs and dance the masochism tango with Roxy while she cleaned. I wanted to drop my phone right now, make sure her boyfriend was sleeping and just...go be with her. They weren't joking when they said once it happened it was all you could think about sometimes.

"It's kind of a shame you don't have a yeti."

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.

"I don't know what else to tell you, man. You know more than I do at this point. Just be careful, alright?"

"Yeah, you too. Start wearing protection or you're going to start going by the litter."

"Not cool, man," Deuce replied. I couldn't help but smirk and hang up. Everything was painfully silent until I heard the slight clinking and scraping downstairs of Rochelle and Roux in the kitchen. The griffin made less noise than her owner, hopping up on the table and settling in. A spoon clinked against a pan before going cushioned-silent. I felt like passing out for a while, even with sleep eluding me. I had really slept enough in a day for a while. My phone slipped from my fingers and thumped onto the carpet while my thoughts drifted back to her temper flare and what followed. My lips twitched. Maybe I should go piss her off again.

That was enough to get me out of bed. I wandered down the stairs and stopped in the doorway, watching her while she stirred the slow cooking meat in the pan with a wooden spoon.

"Are you just going to stare all day?" she teased. Her eyes flicked up to mine, her lips twitching up before the lower one was graced by her teeth. I could've purred. Closing the distance between the both of us, I slid my fingers slowly up her arms and rested my chin on her shoulder. "What're we having?"

"Dressed chicken and rice," she replied. I nodded slightly and nuzzled her hair aside. She shied away, giggling while I wormed in against her neck and kissed her freckled skin. "Granite," she chastised, "I'm going to hit your hands with this spoon."

"Mm, forgive me father for I'm about to sin again," I muttered, trying to play on another outdated pun. Somehow it made her laugh anyway. My hands traveled over her arms, slipping to her shoulders and kneading softly. She paused, the ends of her hair tickling my face as I trailed kisses over the back of her neck to the other side. She turned slightly. I was fully prepared to draw back, but she pressed herself into my arms, nuzzling her pretty little head under mine. I rested my chin on top of her hair, linking an arm around her waist. It was perfect for the first time in a very long time. Roux, the cat-bird of a pet, was sunning herself and Roxy was cooking, Garrot was out, and there was a balance.

"Did you mean what you said?" she murmured. "That I could help you?"

"I can't stop you one way or another," I murmured. "I'd rather have you with me where I can protect you than where I can't."

She paused, turning the heat down to a simmer and removing the spoon from the meat. I started letting go only to have her catch me. Our eyes met. "This isn't fair to me, Granite," she murmured.

"Nothing in life is fair, babe," I murmured. "It's just a competition. Survival of the fittest."

Her fingers laced in my shirt. I caught her talons lightly, trying not to smirk in the process. "I don't need to lose two shirts in one day."

Her cheeks flushed and she gave me a look, but it was still more gentle than before. She loosened her hold and nuzzled into my neck, "Love is blindness, you know...it's complete madness. All of this is so complicated it makes my head spin."

I laughed; she put too much pressure on herself. The fantasy was never going to be the reality, so why even try for it? I slid my fingers into her hair to toy with it softly. "Just go with it." Her head sunk onto my chest, eyes closing slowly. I gave her a soft squeeze. "It's gonna be okay."

Immediately contradicting everything I had just said, Roux leapt to her paws and took off in a dead sprint out of the room. My head snapped up, catching the most vague glimpse of something barreling directly at the side of the house that I could've gotten, but I reacted on instinct, shoving Rochelle up against the opposite counter to put myself between her and it. Instead of breaking through the side of the house, it stopped at the wall. Roux was snarling, her ears flat against her head in the doorway. I let go of Rochelle. Desperately, she laced her talons in the edge of my shirt. I let it tear. There was a large, black truck waiting with its engine idling in her yard, guess-who ghost boy behind the wheel with a smartass grin on his face.

"Granite!" Rochelle called as I wrenched open the back doors and charged into the yard. He hit the reverse. I couldn't hear him over the purr of the engine, but I could see him laughing. A part of me was really going to feel guilty for smashing up such a pretty car. I grabbed onto his bumper as he went back, and as my fingers found purchase, it ripped freely away. He slammed on the break, eyes wide. I folded it over and tossed it aside.

Rochelle appeared in the doorway. I shot her a look for less than a heartbeat. Honestly, my heart was pumping like crazy. Fight or flight was in full fucking swing, and her presence wasn't helping. "Granite," she begged. "He wants to get you killed."

I didn't have time to reply. He slammed on his gas. I threw out my hands. The distance closed rapidly, so I withdrew them and folded them over my chest and face and slammed them outward. Metal smashed, folding inward like tinfoil. My skin sliced open, but it was still tougher than most. Rochelle started off across the lawn in a sprint, but I knew what was coming. I yanked myself out from behind the crumpled metal and charged back her way to meet her halfway. We collided and I snapped her under the cover of my body, sending her sprawling down to the ground near me. Twisted metal slammed into my back. My arms snapped down to keep the jagged edges that had punched out around me from coming in contact with her. She stared at me like I was Clark Kent come alive, all of my strength translated into pushing the screaming gears away from her.

"Go," I hissed. Without a doubt in my mind, I committed the sight of her to memory. Pretty pink lips, soft and plush and parted with shock. Wide, blueish eyes. Her soft hair. Her freckled skin. I loved her. I shoved backward. She pulled herself up and scrambled inside and I slammed my shoulder back and hit the deck. The engine exploded skyward, tossing pieces of metal into the air.

The car body squealed as its driver forced his way out to land on the soft, untainted grass. I half expected it to shrivel and die under his feet. He took a deep breath and released it in a sigh, "Well. I'm impressed. You finally wised up."

My fingers caught in the front grate, either to pick it up or pry it apart didn't really matter at this point. Simply, he smiled. "Once a stubborn half-breed, always a stubborn half breed.

Yeah, a stubborn half breed indeed. I grabbed ahold of the twisted metal and grasped it as tightly as I could, bringing it up and slamming it with all my force into moving. It budged with surprising ease, coming up off the ground only a few feet, but high enough that once I released it, it fell. He laughed and punched it out of the way. It slammed into the side of Rochelle's house like it had flown off the road, shattering the window and knocking the doors cleanly open and off while it punched cleanly through the wall.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

When people die, they're supposed to stay dead. He was supposed to stay dead, Valentine, everyone who had committed horrible things against us save for maybe one or two mortals had never held true to the belief. I was starting to think it was just an assumption.

Roux had flapped clear across the room and clawed at the stairs, prancing back and forth as if she expected me to move. I was dazed. My shoulder was throbbing, I prayed it wasn't cracked. I pulled myself up slowly as the dust settled, finding myself completely intact and in no danger of shattering. Then, with her in tow, I bolted up the stairs and into Garrot's room. He was sitting up, disoriented, and squinted against the muted light to see me, "Rochelle?"

"Garrot, there is no time-!"

I didn't have the time to register I had been grabbed and thrown, only that my head exploded in color and light as it slammed into the solid stone wall. The beauty of a gargoyle's home was that it was built to last; the wall may have been punched in below but the rest of the house could still stand firm. My eyes took their time collecting again, only for a cut of black to flash across my consciousness. Garrot was calling my name, that was the only thing I remained aware of through the torrent of pain. The smash of metal-plated boots into my face and my skull seemed to reverberate through my head. It slammed into my chest. I couldn't breathe. My back. My belly. Over and over again, harder each time than the time before. I wondered if more than one person was hitting me, but the hits came one at a time, as if with growing violence. I clasped my arm over my chest. Fingers knotted in my hair and I felt my forehead strike stone. There was a pause, a beat of silence and collective relief, before I tensed for more. I felt myself crumple. There was a smash overhead, and Garrot shouting to me. I wanted to tell him that I needed a moment to regain myself, but the words couldn't come in that search for breath.

I was not aware I had fallen back into unconsciousness until a splatter of wetness hit my face. "Oh god," Granite's voice came, very soft and far away. "Jesus fucking Christ, she's not breathing!"

"Bring her to me!" Garrot shouted, "Bring her to _me!"_

There was a forceful pumping to my chest. I wanted to move. It was definitely not the standard thirty...forty...whatever it should've been. He sealed his mouth over mine and forced air into my lungs. On my exhale, I laughed. I had never been picked up and crushed to someone as fast as I was by him in my life. Wetness ran down his face, he ran his fingers over my skin and where they had been dry one moment I realized they were wet. He buried his face against me, kissing me, when I became aware that I was in serious pain. My hip, splitting up my side. My face, my chest, my back. I clutched him. Garrot sobbed. "No," Granite whispered, clinging to me, clutching me to his chest, "No, no no, no, no, no, Roxy? Roxy, stay with me!"

"Get her to a doctor," Garrot whispered. "Please."

"I-"

"Please!" he shouted. "I will be fine, take her! Before this happens to her! Go! You do not have time, save Rochelle!" _I didn't think I need to be saved._ "Please, Granite...if you do nothing else for me, please. Please. My life does not mean nearly as much to me as hers."

I was very wet and very warm and I didn't understand why, but I became aware of more pain as I was shifted and jostled. I didn't have the strength to cry out, or else I would've told Granite that everything was breaking, and I meant everything. My chest was getting warmer, my side, my head. Rivers of the wetness were running down my back and my face, and he burst outside. There was sound, and then there wasn't, and I heard breaks screech. Someone yelled to him in French to get in the car. He didn't understand, but he did. His jostling stopped only to be replaced with the slight jostle of a car tearing over pavement.

I listened to the silence like I had never heard it before, and maybe I hadn't. Car trips usually held background noise. Radio, chatter...I could hear the tender, silent hums of the tires over ground. The engine. The electrical systems. Silence had a sound and it really was beautiful. I smelled metallic truth and sunk my head against his biceps. He brushed my bloody, sticky hair off my face and the pooling blood away from my eye so I could open them. The man in the driver's seat was mouthing his hail mary. I blinked slowly, forcing my eyes to focus again on Granite's face and only Granite's face. His strong chin. His strong arms. I was so cold. His soft lips. His soft eyes. It was worse than emotional cold, it was real. Emotional cold I could chase away with him. I felt like I had the chills and no strength to shake. He was covered in thick, syrupy red and I realized it must've come from me.

I smiled.

"Rochelle," he whispered, but he choked on his words. My hero. So strong for me, always so strong for me.

"I love you," I breathed, just in case I ran out of breath. Of course I loved Garrot, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that I loved Garrot, it was Granite who needed to hear my words. While I saw the echo of the pain etched semi-permanently into my own face in his, I let my mind wander over what might've crossed his. Growing up, going to school together. Sharing my parents' house until we found one of our own and steady jobs to join them. He would be around music, because that had been his life before me. He knew what the real outcasts wanted and he would protect them with his life. I imagined our future in neon strobe lights, his future in a happy place. It felt almost as if it were the life I had taken away from him.

"Michelle," I murmured.

He looked at me with silent tears running down his face, inquisition in his eyes at last, something to distract him from that pain again.

"That's...what I want to name a little girl. Michelle." It was so hard to breathe. I forced myself to smile. He screwed his face up like a little boy and the torrents of waterworks began for real. I had no strength to keep whispering my words to him. I let my head lull against his elbow and finally, finally I heard what I hoped would be the last thing to ever grace my ears. He sang to me. It was the most tender, beautiful thing and I hadn't heard it in so long, but he sang to me a song we knew very well.

"_And my mates are all there, trying to calm me down, 'cause I'm shouting your name all over town. I'm swearing if I go there now, I can change your mind, turn it all around. And I know that I'm drunk and I'm saying the worst but she'll listen this time even though it hurts...Dial the number and confess to her I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing."_

My fingers trembled as they latched in his shirt. He clutched my hand in his own. "Oh god, please don't leave me," he blubbered. "Jesus, if you're there, I swear to god I'm gonna spend every mass in church. I'm gonna go twice a week, I'm gonna read the bible, please for God's sake don't let her die, she's all I got left, please...God you asshole you better be listening, you fucked me over this far, save her. Dammit if there's some kinda balance, then take me, but save her."

My mother had said to me once a very long time ago that it was a very rare thing for a girl to have two men willing to put down their lives for the same woman, especially if said woman was "you." The almighty "you." Everyone was "you." I elevated my head and felt the spasm of muscles while my cracking back gave way. I pressed my ear to his heart despite the pain it put me in and clung to him with all my strength.

"Sing to me," I gasped. "I'm going to die, I want to hear your voice."

"Don't say that," he breathed.

"I'm going to die," I repeated, "Sing."

He looked at me, and for some reason all he could pick was the horridly sad songs. He started singing to me again, not the introduction that everyone knew, but the song of _Welcome to the Black Parade_ itself. His voice, caressing the words _carry on_ should've been the last thing I heard.

Unfortunately, I woke up to blinding, horrifyingly bright halogen lights enough to make a non-vampire scream in burning agony. And that was exactly what I did. The sound of my own voice was enough to make my singing head split and the scream carry more force. Surely someone thought a woman was giving birth, but Granite's hands were on me before anyone else's. I wanted to arch, but my chest, my back, everything was searing. The light cut, and I waited for the agony to subside with the touch of his hands the way it always had. Very gently, he caressed my cheek. He ran his fingers slowly over my skin and soothed me into breathing. A heart monitor was beeping faintly in my ear, the volume down so low it was hardly audible, and for that I was exceedingly grateful.

"Hey," he whispered in my ear, kissing my fractured temple. It didn't sing with pain beneath his lips.

"Is this heaven?" I exhaled, "Did you die?"

"If this is heaven, heaven is shit," he muttered before laughing his classic, I-am-the-only-one-who-understood-that-pun chuckle. My eyes opened slowly to meet with his. He brushed his fingers slowly over my skin. "No, Catrine's dad was kind of wrong. Maybe Doctor Stine couldn't do anything for Garrot, but they did something for you."

I swallowed dryly. His proximity to me radiated comfortable heat. I felt myself slipping back. He chuckled, "Yeah...they said your head would be sensitive."

"Please leave it off," I murmured.

I heard him silently pull a chair up beside me. His hand rested on mine. "Of course. TV too?"

I could've shrugged, "No. Dim that. Keep that low. I wouldn't want to make you suffer too."

His lips graced my head in a silent reassurance that he was not suffering, not while I was alive. The thought itself was stupidly reassuring. I could've asked if he had caught Pitch and beaten his head in, but the way he clutched my hand told me more than I expected to know. Quite simply, I squeezed back, and I allowed myself to fall into sedation once more.


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17_

Garrot had someone staying with him, Roxy had someone with her, and it was in all of our best interest if I went back to a kind of life I knew very well.

_Kyoto_ was blocking out the rest of the auditory world. Guys three times my size were benching weights, but I was going at the punching bag. A paranoid man once taught me how to fight, apparently he knew how to pack an ace. I just had to make sure I was strong enough to break that too this time.

I was getting looks. I couldn't help it; I directed the force and the pace of the hits to the squealing, grinding music in my ears. Harder hits came, punctuated in spurts of rapid succession. Sometimes it was speed, sometimes it was sheer strength. Either way, the bar sustaining the bag was beginning to buckle.

My earbuds were yanked out and before I could grab them up again, my iCoffin followed. I looked up at the source of the hand with serious intention to cause bodily harm, but Manny was the one snapping my iCoffin up into his hand by the headphone jack. My balled fists threatened violence anyway, no matter how much I wanted to simmer down. Everything that had managed to sit dormant for so long was coming out, mixing with the new like the liquids in a glow stick. Instead of giving off light, they ignited and set the rest of my logical mind up in vengeful flame.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Give me my fucking phone." I didn't have time for games. He looked at my phone in his hand and very seriously looked me in the face, "I will take this out to the quad and break it, Granite. You're gonna come talk with me."

I decked him before I even realized my temper got that bad. Manny wasn't a wuss, though, he could take a hit. He decked me back in the face and didn't even seem to care that it didn't affect me as much as it affected him. At least he dropped my phone, because we went at each other like hell. Manny was built like a wrestler with the muscle mass of a concrete block. His knuckles didn't break on the first hit and I didn't get him down on the first one either. Guys cleared the way to watch. I threw the full force of my body into hitting him and he did the same. He slammed a huge fist into my gut, knocking the air out of me, but I cracked my head against his. He looked like he saw stars. It only made him more angry. With all the force in his body, he slammed my back into the wall, horns poised to take my head off.

He stopped right before he ran me through, shoving me off and backing off. "Shit."  
It occurred to me while my blood was still boiling that the fight we had just had was probably the first he had since getting laid on a regular basis. It was kind of funny. Outside of the one that took down Garrot, it was for me too. That was why Pitch had been so pissed in the first place. We used to fight because we were bored and other people found it as entertaining as we did, it wasn't like we got paid for it.

My anger started simmering down slowly. I forgot how human Rochelle made me. That was the worst part, never knowing if I was a man or a monster, not when the line between the two was so thin. Manny was a bully for a fucking decade at least and he still had a better grasp on humanity than I did. A thought that hadn't come up in a long time streaked across my mind and managed to knock me on my ass. I physically sunk down to the mat-laden floor because of it. I just wasn't worthy of Rochelle. Girls like her belonged with guys like Garrot, not guys who fought when they were bored. What happened if one day in the far distant future I got bored again? I'd fuck everything up for both of us. Who was I kidding, there was no prize fighter future in it for both of us, and she wanted something stable after this, that was not stability. Being with me wasn't exactly stable.

Manny was probably having some kind of thought along the same line, because he looked back at me and kicked my phone over to me. I grabbed it up, trying not to take offence to the fact it had been kicked over. He grabbed me by the sweaty strap of my undershirt and hauled me to my feet and out of the gym. "You're earning some kind of reputation around here and you don't even go here."

I tucked my phone in my pocket and slouched along at his side. My eyes went up against my will. There was a memorial against the side of the building and it made my blood into fucking ice. No, not just that, but the fact that there were people there, people who looked_ similar_...like I could see Opal in the older girl with the little boy. The salt-and-pepper haired human next to the snake monster. God, that must've been tough. Manny seemed to notice before I wandered away. He stopped and hung back, god knows why. It was mostly curiosity of what they had for Veronica that made me walk over. I didn't intend to get teary and start breaking down about how I failed her, vow revenge in the most dramatic way possible and go on a quest to seek justice from her killer. I just walked up and stared down with my hands shoved in my pockets.

She looked beautiful. It was probably her senior picture. All dark hair and fanged smile. And Opal. She was pretty too. Misguided, but bright. There was a lot of candles, a lot of them scented. Probably in their favorite smells. There were teddy bears and toys, flowers real and fake, multi-religious bibles and sympathy cards and the whole works. It was a lot different than America, where no one would think twice or dwell on it ever again. People who didn't know her the way I did were grieving for her.

"Scuze me? Mister?"

My eyes fell to the little boy who had wandered over to me. His mother was looking at us expectantly. I knew they knew. Veronica's parents had looked up and were staring at me too. I rested my hand on top of his head, "She was really nice, y'know. Vibrant."

The little boy nodded and hugged my leg like he knew I tried. The salt-and-pepper man looked at me as if trying to place my face before his eyes widened behind square glasses and started brimming. I looked away. He clasped my shoulder, "You're the boy...the one she called for help. You're the boy who stayed with her."

I nodded.

"What'd she say?" he asked.

If I knew one thing about death, it was that people always wanted to hear a truth for them. I should've told him that she was okay with it. I shrugged and glanced to them, "Go find Opal."

The woman beside him burst into tears.

People wanted to hear things like that when people they loved died. They wanted to believe they had a sense of selflessness. They wanted to pretend that everything in the body didn't release when their heart stopped beating; dying with dignity was crap unless you saw it coming or did it yourself. The little boy held my leg for a while before returning back to the girl I figured was Opal's sister. Veronica's parents stared at me. I sunk down next to her picture and leaned my head against the wall. I wished I had something to say to her that mattered. Instead, I just nodded at her. She couldn't even see, but if there was some kind of celestial way she did, I wanted her to see that I hadn't- I wouldn't, I couldn't- forget.

"Thank you," the mortal said to me in a gentle, fatherly tone. I got up, brushing off the knees of my pants. "I didn't know her long, but...she was one of my best friends."

I'd like to think it gave him a little peace. Guy like him was too nice to figure out the circumstances of what really happened. I didn't know what they knew, I didn't care to know what they knew. There was a little sinking feeling in my stomach, like just because I hadn't gotten there in time I couldn't look these people in the eye. I wanted to voice that I had tried, ask if they blamed me. Grief was a funny thing. For a while, all you could do was try to reach the next stage in it.

I ambled back to Manny and jammed my hands deeper in my pockets. My headphones felt chipped, but besides that, they were fine. We were both pretty bruised and probably looked like hell, but that was all I had the effort for. He looked at me sideways and jerked his head toward the street, "You wanna fight him, you need to do it professionally. He had somethin' up his sleeve, you need somethin' of your own."

When he said that, I didn't think of me. I thought of Roxy, Garrot and fixing him for real. "And you know somebody who can do that?"

"Nah," he replied, "But...somebody I know might."

It actually took me a second to realize we'd wandered over by the art department. Catrine was sitting off from the other artists with lunch in her lap and her sketchbook open. She was probably drawing the courtyard full of people, but she stopped when she saw us- or more specifically, Manny. He went over to her before she could put her things down, his bulk taking up two and a half of the space she occupied. He leaned in close to her and spoke in a quiet tone. She was packing up anyway, reaching up in a silent protest to the obvious wounds. I felt like kicking my own ass a lot more than anyone else's for maybe five seconds before I saw fear fill her eyes and be replaced quickly with determination. She rose, threw her book bag over her shoulder, and stalked over to me. "You told Rochelle she could help," she said to me, meeting my eyes. "Does that extend to me?"

"You're the only tour guide I have right now," I replied with total indifference, just in case it wasn't Manny's idea.

"Good. Find me a car, we're going shopping." _Seriously?_ I wanted to ask. _Why do women solve every problem with shopping?_ Even rolling my eyes, I followed her. She gave the instruction and didn't even bother to wait for me to carry it out. Manny caught up to me, a slightly more confident look than my own plastered on his face.

"Yeah, I can see why you picked that one to get tied down to."


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18_

_Sorry guys! There was no update yesterday because some asshole decided to hit the pole down the road again. This time the phone lines got fucked up, so we had no internet until noon today._

Catrine's idea of shopping was most definitely not Rochelle's idea of shopping.

I pulled Garrot's car around; she claimed shotgun and Manny got the back. What was weird was that everything was reversed in France. People drove in the right hand seat of the car on the left side of the road, and it wasn't a whole huge deal considering I hadn't been driving long anyway, but it kinda struck me as odd anyway in that moment in time. Trust me completely when I say things got progressively weirder progressively faster.

Catrine is the sweetest, most soft-spoken, well-read, educated type of girl I had ever met in all my life. I loved her like the sister in law I intended to have. Apparently, some of Manny's bad habits were rubbing off on her, because about halfway there, she started digging through her bag and cursing in French. As I've said before, I didn't speak it, but it was kind of hard to miss anybody cursing in any language, especially the blue streak she had going. Pretty shockingly, Manny replied to her in French, leaving me out of the conversation. I just drove until she said out of nowhere, switching languages in a heartbeat, "Take this turn up here."

I did. From there, she guided the wheel with one hand. I didn't feel like I was driving anymore. She pulled us off down a dead-end road and drove us right down to the lot at the end. I had the gut feeling we were about to do something really vastly illegal. Instead, she cut behind some houses to the backside of a suburban storefront and headed up a set of outdoor apartment stairs. I glanced at Manny. He regarded the whole situation with casual my-girlfriend-is-a-second-generation-spy indifference. We followed her. She crossed the little joke of a terrace and knocked on the window of the second floor apartment. At first I didn't think anyone was home, but the door inside opened up and a little dragon woman peeked around the corner. She looked like one of those Chinese restaurant owning grandmas, but she looked at Catrine and nodded. Catrine motioned for us to follow, even as the other woman sized us up, probably for our level of discretion.

We're a couple of Americans in a foreign country and one of us is literally built like an Ox. Yeah, discreet didn't work here. Though sometimes I thought Manny was less of a sore thumb than I was.

Catrine didn't go to the windowed apartment. The halls were so tiny they looked like the inside of a club in a slasher movie. "We're gonna get murdered in here," I muttered. She was smiling, I could feel it even if I couldn't see it. She went down the sharply angled hallway and tapped at a street-facing door. Someone said something to her in French as we caught up, and she replied. Hell, they might've had secret code, but I didn't understand it anyway. She was let inside and motioned for us to follow her.

As soon as the door shut, a thick accent came from behind us, "Eh, no. I invited _you_ in, Catrine, not them." A little mouse of a man, half literally, slid out from behind us and went into the main apartment with her. Apartment was putting it loosely. There were blinds drawn and boarded over; surveillance screens were the only legitimate light in the room save for a single halogen lightbulb on the ceiling. The guy was like some super genius hacker stationed in his mom's basement. My eyebrows rose.

"I need you to pull me some video," she said, sliding into his chair before he got there. Maybe it was the cat and mouse thing, maybe he knew her personally. He seemed pretty intimidated. I looked at Manny, hoping he saw the lack of logic that came with a five-four art student intimidating a guy who probably had an arsenal in his underwear drawer as conspiracy theorists did, but he was taking in more than me. I always knew when Manny was thinking; he got a really vague, distant look in his eyes. I took everything in too. Scorch marks on the dresser; well that was right. The cameras had angles all over the city. That was creepy. It was a one room apartment. I stepped sideways. He had a _fucking axe_ by the front door.

"Waiting for the zombies?" I muttered, trying to joke.

The mouse-man's eyes flickered to me and he laughed a high, nervous laugh. He had stringy, dark hair and wide eyes. Honestly, he looked like he was on some kind of acid trip as we spoke. "No. The vampires are the ones who will come for us."

I resisted the urge to mutter _fang-freaking-tastic_ under my breath and continued looking around. The kitchen was the only area that wasn't smothered in dust, wear and technology. That was not reassuring. He nudged her up and out of his seat, cracking his knuckles and sighing, "I'll see. What date?"

She leaned over him and gave him a list. I looked around for something I recognized. There were a lot of disposable international cell phones. Something was attached to the DSL jack, with three computer screens and a big, old CPU attached to it. Whole printer setup, plus the TV screens? I felt like I'd been on the lam for weeks already.

The printer started up while Catrine wandered over toward the miniature arsenal. I watched with muted terror while she picked out something that looked like a gigantic remote control with a little...grappling hook? where the light should've been. She walked over to me and put it in my hands. I was tempted to press the button. "It smashes stone," she said. "Push the button, the force generator goes outward. Same principal as breaking glass in a car."

"If we're talking about that guy, that's not going to just do it. He needs to see Michaela."

"We're going after this," she replied. She took one for herself and waited. Once he was able to hand her off all the pictures- time stamped and probably loaded with every freakin other detail possible- she started for the door. He looked relieved. "Catty, I love you and your dad, you know that...but please don't come to me for anything unless it's life and death."

She stopped by the door, eyeing his axe. "Someone is trying to kill my friends, Ronaldo. That seems pretty life and death to me."

He shooed us out in a panic. Catrine started down the hall again, and I thought we might leave, but she pushed her way into one of the other apartments. It was the exact opposite of the place we'd just left. Where Ronaldo's shack was nerd heaven, the room we were entering was like...Dracula's harem's hotel room. Beads fell over the door as she entered. Smoke- incense, drugs and cigarettes all combined- tumbled out in streams. Someone laughed. Guided by curiosity and the potential promise of catching a glimpse, I wandered over and looked in.

I imagine the Greek Den of the Sirens was a lot like this place. There was a pair of lava lamps in the windowless room and that was it. Pillows, mats instead of mattresses, blankets and silk...just raw silk, strewn over the floor. A closet door sat ajar, ornamented suitcases sitting half-covered in clothes. There was a sink-bar on one side and some tables on another, the rest was all bedroom. I wasn't even sure there was a bathroom. Either way, the entire room housed four girls. Catrine went to the one on the bed, who was currently smoking something strong. Another laid on top of her, probably sharing the religious experience with her.

"Michaela," Catrine prodded.

The girl didn't look up. She was clearly somewhat conscious, unlike the two on the floor and the one at her side. Manny looked in and backed out. The smoke felt like it was getting to me too, but I wandered over. The minute I joined Catrine, she sat up and laughed like she was seeing an old friend for the first time. She was only wearing a gold embroidered pink bra and some kind of see-through skirt. She threw her arms around me and squeezed me, whispering in an amazed tone, "It is _you_."

Have we met? and Does she do this a lot? crossed my mind, but instead I just took her hands and lowered them, "Yeah, it is me."

"Something evil followed you," she said with a nod. She didn't even seem to notice Catrine was there. I sunk onto the mattress beside her and nodded, "Yeah, you can say that."

Slowly, she rose. I exhaled the smoke that she'd drawn over toward me, watching her sway over to the counter. She grabbed things and threw them together. Catrine sunk onto the bed beside me and smacked me none too gently. Her scarf was over her mouth, no wonder she wasn't getting stoned. I took deep breaths. It made me feel light. Relieved. Somehow, I felt like she was going to help me. There was a lot of grinding, slopping together, mixing and diluting. I laid down against the other girl, feeling my eyes roll back in my head. It was setting in, lifting me. I felt weightless and totally free.

"Jesus," I heard Manny mutter. I sighed in relief.

"Granite!" Catrine shouted, smacking my leg.

I crashed back down to the floor, stirring her friends. They laughed at me. I rubbed my eyes, rolled my shoulders and watched as she dropped something into my palm. She kissed my forehead, gave me a wave and allowed Catrine to pull me away.

"Thank you," I called back, even though I wasn't entirely sure what she had just done.

She blew me a kiss in return. Catrine made sure to tug the door shut in her wake. The hallway kept me hazy, but once I'd gone outside, the cold air and it's freshness hit me like a mallet in the face. I grabbed my head, "What was that?"

"Magic," Catrine replied. Her eyes flickered to me from the top of the stairs, the corners of her lips quirking lightly, "I'll drive?"

"As long as you can drive and talk, kitten, I don't mind at all." Manny patted my back and guided me down the stairs and back toward the car. I tucked my two little weapons into the pockets of my jacket and stumbled after them.


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19_

I rolled my head against the cool window slowly. Manny's hand was on Catrine's shoulder and they were whispering to each other in French. It was kind of my car, so if I yelled at them to stop it, I could've been justified...instead, I tried to doze off. I must've, because I woke up to Catrine parking outside the house. My first instinct was to shout for her to get back on the road, but then I saw a flutter of movement up in Rochelle's room. I burst to my feet and tore into the house. Instead of bee-lining for Garrot like I probably should've, I went straight to her room. Her grandmother was pulling the curtains shut, glancing to her out of the corner of her eyes.

Rochelle looked like an angel, all propped up on fluffy pillows and surrounded by a powder pink comforter. Her hair was tied up in a delicate braid, her eyes glinting with understanding as I burst in. I raced to her. She set her tea down on the nightstand and leaned over to meet me halfway for the embrace. I practically fell on top of her, pressing her soft, gorgeous body to mine. "Oh god," I whispered. I slid my fingers into her hair and squeezed the locks twisted in my hair tightly. I kissed her fully on the lips, silencing her from her soft, breathy laughter. She melted against me. She must've still been medicated.

"Granite," she sighed against my mouth. Her lips were parted; I took my chances, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She squirmed slightly. Her tongue ran against mine, teasing me, playing with me. I couldn't help myself. I laid down with her and continued, kissing down her skin until I met her shirt. I nuzzled her chest. She sighed, "Wow."

"She is on medication," her grandmother said, breaking my silent worship. Rochelle went pink. Grandma Goyle just smirked understandingly. "Do not take advantage of her." She gestured at me with her cane. I grinned. "Never, ma'am."

She still patted the back of my knee as she hobbled out. Rochelle slid her fingers into my hair and sighed, "I miss it long. I want to run my fingers through your hair...grab it, pull it..."

"Roxy," I murmured, "Catrine and Manny have been awsome-"

She waited until her grandmother left to draw me back up and silence me with a kiss. I went to pieces. She tugged me down beside her, guiding my hand to her chest. Soft but firm, completely knead-able...I had to force myself to draw back. She nibbled my lower lip, rolling over slightly to nestle closer. Her hand went down just where I wanted it too. I caught it, drawing her fingers up to my lips to kiss them. She watched me, sensuality burning in her half-lidded eyes. I bit down on the first knuckle of her middle finger. She squealed and giggled.

"Behave yourself," I murmured, holding her finger between my teeth.

She slid her free hand into my hair and murmured, "Make me. Or is that Garrot's job?"

And there went the mood. Living boyfriend, down the hall. Of course he'd given her permission to go...fill those needs, considering below his waist wasn't the best of use anymore, but it didn't change the fact that he was still there. He still loved her. "Roxy, I gotta go take care of this whole Pitch thing."

Her eyes glinted sadly. "Don't you leave me too. I need you. Granite...please. I need you."

I wanted to whisper to her that I knew. That I needed her more than anything and I wanted nothing more than to give her what she needed. I wanted to nuzzle my body against hers and let go. I wanted to love her to the best of my ability, prove to her that I was at least half the man Garrot Du Roque was. But she was sleepy and slightly intoxicated. I could never forgive myself if I hurt her.

"Go to sleep," I murmured. I tucked her in under the covers and kissed her softly. This time, her lips only twitched to meet mine. I ran my fingers slowly down her skin and hoped for the best. Catrine and Manny were below, speaking fluently with their families. I headed over to Garrot's room and leaned on the door.

He had on BBC again. His eyes were fully open, to my surprise. He looked up slowly and sighed, "So."

I stepped in, nodding slightly, "Yeah. She's asleep."

"I know. Thank you for helping her."

Why our conversations had gotten so clipped I didn't think I'd ever understand. I sat down on the edge of his bed and brought myself closer to him. His eyes flickered up before falling back down. They were filled with sorrow. I reached out and brushed his bangs back. "Hey...I'm gonna fix this, okay?"

He pressed his lips together and released a deep, sad sigh. "I don't want to die."

It stopped me in my tracks. He had been so prepared. He had a will and everything in order, he had time. He seemed so okay with it. He grasped my sleeve and met my eyes, his breath shaky as he muttered to me, "Do not tell Rochelle...but I am afraid."

I nodded. "Yeah. I know. I'm scared too."

His lips shook. I wished I had the balls to roll my eyes. Instead, I shifted closer and I wrapped him up like a little brother under my arm. "You're one of the few people I have left. I don't want you to suffer, but I don't wanna let go either."

He nodded in silence. Tiny tears that he seemed like he was shoving back started streaming down his face. I ran my fingers through his hair and sighed. "It's gonna be okay. I promise."

"Help me when I get there," he whispered. "Make it painless. Fast and painless. Promise me you'll help me die."

"I think that's called murder," I muttered. "And it's not just illegal in the US."

"Dead men tell no secrets. Just...help me. Smother me. Snap my neck, euthanize me, something. Please." I didn't want to respond. He squeezed my hand. "Granite, I am starting to lose the feeling in my hands...my chest...it's not going to be long."

I had to pull myself away. It felt like he'd slammed his full weight into my chest. I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to un-hear what he had said to absolutely no use. He touched my hand.  
"Sixteen years is not enough," I said, surprised how much it sounded like a gasp. I was choking back the emotion that was trying to smother me. I was choking back all the pain. I was starving. I was cold. I needed a shower. I needed my mom.

Oh god, I needed my mom.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy," he said. He was trying to joke now; he could tell. It piled on and piled on until I started cracking under the stress of it. The weight of being absolutely and entirely alone. I charged up out of the bed. I didn't have anywhere to go; there were people downstairs and this was my room too. I slammed my hands over my face and tried not to scream.

"Granite," he whispered.

No. I needed my mom. I needed her to hold me, I needed her to run her fingers through my hair and tell me stories. I needed her to try to sing even though her voice was hoarse from...from crying. From screaming at Farnum not to make me fight again. Not to put my father through the freak show. He broke her heart. I don't remember how she died. I don't remember when. Maybe she died when I was born and I hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe she'd been sick, I didn't know. I didn't want to. She died not long after Pitch's mom, I knew that. We had been like brothers, and then this. I tried to be a man when we had both grown up animals.

"Granite?" Garrot said quietly.

I sunk down on the floor, running my fingers through my hair and pulling the locks the way Rochelle had. I felt empty in too many ways. He turned off the TV and sighed.  
"When I was fourteen, I was dared to look through a construction hole into the girl's locker room. I tricked a senior into doing it for me and he was suspended."

"Fantastic," I muttered. "Gonna use your wits out of this one?"

He looked down. His eyes searched the room momentarily, looking everywhere but me before they landed on me. "You are the brother I have never had, Granite. I would like to extend to you everything."

I already had his girlfriend, his house, his junk and his car. I opened my arms in a gesture asking what else he could possibly give me. He sat up slowly and looked into my eyes before calling, "Mom? Dad?"

Oh god. He wasn't. I couldn't.

"My parents are losing a son," he murmured to me, meeting my eyes, "There is utterly no reason they can't take another."

His mother came dashing in, totally flustered. Unlike Rochelle, she didn't cry all the time. Her eyes said differently, but I'd never seen her do it. It made me kind of proud; she was a tough little woman. As she fussed over him, he spoke to her in gently toned French. His father leaned in the door, glancing between him and I intuitively. I didn't know what he said, but she looked up in surprise. She looked at me with shocked, pitiful eyes. I hated that look in most people, but Garrot's mom...she didn't look at me like a charity case. She looked at me like any other kid. And finally, she motioned me over. It took me a minute to budge, but I did.

"You have no home," she murmured in slightly broken, heavily accented English. "You have no family."

I nodded, shooting Garrot a _thanks for reminding me_ look.

"My son...he cares for you as well. You have been such a good friend to him and to Rochelle..." She didn't know the half of it. Maybe she did. She got up and hugged me, and it was weird beyond belief. Considering that I hadn't been the nicest to her or her husband, being so defensive of Rochelle and myself and every little action they disagreed with of Garrot's, the entire though that maybe she was hugging me and bringing me in for karma points crossed my mind.

But he was dying. There wasn't any amount of karma in the world that was going to save Garrot. He'd need a miracle, and monsters didn't get miracles. I think we all understood that. Our eyes met, his and mine. He begged me not to leave his parents alone in the same look that I promised him it would be okay. I would help any way I could. And I hugged his mom back.


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20_

If a mortal man intended to fight the way he was, people would've said he had a family. By family, they wouldn't have meant a mother and father, they would've meant the kind of family our friends at home had opted for. No one truly realized what changes life brought until they came. No one attempted to understand the other views.  
Granite perched on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands and his jacket beside him. I wandered down the stairs in the dark and wrapped my arms softly around his shoulders. He didn't budge until I slipped onto the soft cushions behind him. "Sober yet?"

I sunk my head against his shoulders and nodded. He felt so tense. My hands caressed his back as I closed my eyes. He stayed quiet, a soft sigh slipping from his lips. I kissed his skin gratefully, showering him in the attention and affection he deserved. His shoulders slowly began to unwind under my hands, following down his back, the muscles relaxing until his body was as limp against mine as I was against his. I slid my fingers slowly down his arms, squeezing his firm biceps, tracing his thick forearms down to his hands. I couldn't help but shift, pressing my lips to the back of his neck as my fingers slipped through his. He released his breath slowly. It was music to my ears. I knew him well enough to know deep breaths were a sign of surrender and relaxation. I continued my soft massaging until he arched back against me, the back of his head nestled between my breasts.

"I love you," he exhaled.

I ran my hands over his cheeks before I lowered my lips to his forehead. "I love you too."

It was a relief to voice. The sharing of my thoughts made me feel alive again in a way that I hadn't felt for a very long time. I didn't dare burden Garrot with my grief, and Granite had enough of his own. Maybe it was the sedation messing with my mind, but I felt at peace. For some reason, so did they. Garrot was sleeping soundly without incident, and Granite sat here, alone in the dark and the silent as I had found him many times before. I massaged his shoulders and murmured into his ear, "Remember when you first started spending the night? I would catch you up in the middle of the night...staring out my window..."

"It's a habit," he muttered, leaning back into me. "Roxy, I need you to stay home."

"I know," I murmured. I kissed his ear as his head shifted. He smiled slightly, just the hint of a very mature smile on his lips. It was both something to be proud of and something to fear. My fingers ran through his growing locks and I pressed my hands to his jaw. Slowly, I trailed my fingers down his neck and over his chest. His breath was silent, our eyes meeting in the night without truly seeing.

"Garrot needs you. He's not doing well, and I don't want you to have any regrets."

There should've been a stab of pain. I had finally hit the limit on my grief. I couldn't shed any more tears, I couldn't push myself any farther past exhaustion. A comfortable numbness had settled in my soul. "I don't want to leave you alone," I murmured. "Take someone with you."

"Yeah. Manny."

I nodded. Slowly, he turned. His arms wound slowly around me, changing our places on the sofa as he went. His jacket slipped to the floor as I linked a leg, than two, over his waist. He shifted me onto his lap, guiding my face closer to his. Our foreheads met, eyes crossing while our noses bumped. His fingers ran over my back, tracing my spine slowly up and down. They branched out, tracing my wings, caressing my skin. I closed my eyes.

"When this is all over...I wanna stay here. I'll go to school, you'll go to school, we'll keep on. I promise, Roxy, I swear to you...I wanna be with you."

I nodded as his face supported mine. His fingers tracing the ends of my hair before softly twirling a lock around his finger. "Do you ever feel like you were never supposed to be human?"

I laughed and fluttered my wings against his hands as if he'd forgotten they were there. Granted, they weren't like Dracula's, but they were hardly forgettable. He rolled his eyes and fell back against the couch, staring at me through well-learned eyes. "You know what I mean."

I ran my hands over his chest, massaging those muscles too, "Like a dog?"

He shrugged, "Sure."

I could tell he was alluding to more than he wanted to speak of. I leaned in and pressed my lips softly to his, "When I get tired of dealing with all of human life. I believe Venus put it in the best way possible...roll yourself up in a carpet and spend the rest of your life as a burrito."

He laughed. It shook my entire body. I blushed and crawled off his lap to curl up beside him, tugging the blanket over the both of us. He picked up his jacket and laid on it, drawing my attention back to it. I rose a brow, waiting for him to catch the curious look. He smirked as he settled against it and wrapped his arm around me, guiding me back against him, "Hey Roxy...if Garrot never showed up to come get you, what would you have done?"

He was warm against my skin. It felt beautiful. I linked my fingers through his, drawing his arm down around me comfortably. I settled my head on his shoulder, twitching my shoulders while I played with his fingers. "Been with you."

"Do you still wanna be when this is all over?" he murmured.

I drew his hand up to my lips and kissed it softly. "Of course. So long as you want to be with me." My mind flickered back to the stupid jealousy that I had never apologized fully for. A guilty flush ran through my body. I traced my fingers softly over his. "I'm sorry." When he didn't reply, I threw a glance over my shoulder to see if he was awake. He was laying with his head back on the cushioned back of the sofa, nearly propped up at its crest. He was so comfortably spread out, it was like he had lived here forever.

"For what?" he murmured after a moment of silence.

"For being cruel to Veronica."

His eyes lifted. "It's alright. She understood. She kinda hated you too."

My eyes went wide. He laughed, "I'm joking. She thought you were...prissy."

I rolled my eyes and settled back against him. When he got extremely quiet, it usually meant he had music on. But softly, he began humming. The mental iCoffin must never turn off for him. I cuddled my face into his shoulder, listening to the melody of _Alone Together_ as it passed his lips. His firm muscles were even more of a safety blanket than the afghan over our laps. I pressed a soft kiss to his muscle. He didn't falter in his melody, not even for breath, not even as I traced worshipping kisses over his arms.

"Granite, I can't thank you enough for staying with me."

"I didn't have anybody else," he replied. I could've pointed out the obvious errors with that statement, but he amended it quickly. "You are honestly one of the only people who has ever made me feel like a person. Not like a charity case kid, not some fellow freak in need of aid..." He shifted against me. I froze. I wasn't prepared for the firmness of his chest against his back, the closeness of our bodies as he pulled me close and ensnared me in his arms. His lips pressed to the back of my head in silence. "You touched me. Your hands on me...they're magic, Roxy. Touching you...you letting me touch you...it's some kind of dream for a guy like me. I've been some kind of animal for so long, that when you were there...all pink satin and little white bows..." I wanted him to continue. He ran his fingers softly over mine. The air conditioning clicked on, spurring the both of us into cuddling closer. His lips pressed to my neck as I shifted, pausing me. "I just want you to know that I really love you."

I wanted to whisper everything that I felt in his ears. I wanted to tell him how deeply I valued his help without the words to properly speak it. Garrot might've died much earlier if he hadn't been here to help him, to support him, and I knew I would've gone to pieces without him. He was the only thing keeping us together, saving Garrot's parents, keeping mine amused. My father hadn't even made a comment about sleeping with either of them. Granite's fingers ran slowly over my stomach under the blanket cloaking us. I nestled closer and sighed softly. "I'm so afraid of losing you both."

He laughed. It wasn't funny. I curled closer into him, allowing myself to be reassured. He brushed my hair back slowly, tucking it behind my ear and pressing a soft, adoring kiss to my temple. "I promise I got it."

_Famous last words,_ I nearly muttered. I massaged his knee and tucked my face into his neck. We remained there in silence, curled up together on my couch the way Garrot and I had done so long ago, ushering out our transitional era. He had to think I was stupid not to notice Garrot's decline. The meds were wearing off. I felt negative again. I felt like I could've been on medication for that alone, but somehow the scent of his soap was enough to keep me calm. I ran my fingers slowly over his chest and wound my talons in his shirt. "Please be careful for me."

"I will," he replied, faster than I expected. I held on tightly. I could've kissed him. I could've done so much, but I was falling asleep. Deeper, slower breaths passed my lips, and I started drifting to sleep.

The sound of agony ripped through my sleep-haze and I charged to my feet, casting off the blanket and leaping to my feet. I charged up the stairs and burst into Garrot's room. He laid there, writhing in pain, his eyes wide and terrified. I dropped down beside him, clasping his twitching fingers in my own and smoothing the sweaty bangs from his forehead. He immediately began apologizing profusely, but I shook my head. "Please, curse a blue streak," I muttered, "You know it helps."

He did. He clutched me and he cursed until he couldn't breathe. Granite hung out in the doorway while his mother rushed past, dropping beside him and ignoring the language while she checked his vitals and administered his medication. She clasped my hand supportively in silent thanks. I didn't have the words or the nerve to tell her that I had not been with him, but I had been downstairs with Granite, holding him and trying my best to cling to something, to leave myself with something. It was that very greed that had destroyed me and it was that very greed that kept me alive.

When she left, and Garrot calmed, he didn't question it at all. The only thing I regretted was letting Granite stay while I rose my fist to my lips, the other laced with Garrot's, and I cried again. Apparently the limit for my _selfish_ grief had not yet been met.


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21_

I waited until she had fallen asleep against him to wake him. It wasn't the nicest thing I'd ever done, but...dead men told no secrets. At the very least, Garrot knew what she could handle better than I did. He looked up at me with dark, blurry eyes.

"I'm gonna go take care of this," I murmured. "I'm taking Manny and Catrine for backup. We'll be home later."

He looked at me like I was insane for a moment before nodding. He was so drugged up that for a second, I thought it didn't even register. He clasped my hand tightly and squeezed, "Good. Because I won't die until you come back to them."

We weren't so different after all. It was a constant balance between selfishness and selflessness. He expressed the latter while I expressed the former, but the both of us were guilty of both. I leaned in and gave him a squeeze, just in case. He wound his fingers in my shirt, but I felt him shaking. I felt the weight of his arm around my back and knew. The paralysis was spreading up. He was forcing it now. It might've been weird, but honestly, at this point, I didn't care. I kissed the side of his head like he was the brother I never had. "Thank you," I murmured into his ear.

"Take care of them," he replied. "You're the only man I'd trust."

Rochelle was dead asleep against his shoulder. I couldn't tell if he didn't want her to wake or couldn't feel it, but I knew. I squeezed the opposite, pleased when he smiled in slight pain. His twitchy fingers slid to my shoulder, clasping it as best he could. "Go be a hero."

"Stay home and be a guardian," I murmured. He just smiled in that intuitive way, like an old Zen master who knew. Maybe that was what life was, knowing everything just before you die, giving off wise words like Johnny Cade. Except Garrot's last words would probably be something totally ridiculous about how he got to Rochelle first anyway.

The sun was just coming up as I stepped out of the house, my weapons in tow (if I could even call them that.) The leaves were glossy with dew, light piercing them entirely so you forgot the illusion of a totally emerald green leaf in favor of the pale lime one that really sat on the branches. I didn't have anything else. I didn't need it. I slid my arms into my jacket on the front step, patted my pockets and wandered down the sidewalk.

We could've had a better plan. Instead, we decided to meet up at the school and let Catrine take things from there. Granted, she was kind of a second generation spy, it still felt like a half assed plan. I took my time getting there. I wanted to remember every detail, just in case. The thought of _sixty-three degrees and cloudy_ from the Pearl Jam video Veronica liked flashed across my mind and steeled the resolve in my chest. I slipped into the still-foggy quad and found my way over to the memorials. Her picture sat like a timid sentry, surrounded by wilting flowers, cards and possessions she might've liked. I wondered how the dorm room looked, whether it was still covered in Opal's blood and the scorching of the incident. I was tempted to walk into the stairwell to find if they had left a trace of her behind, or if school would just resume without hint of her. The least she deserved was a plaque or something in that hall. Her death had been on her own terms. She withstood what he did to her, but she knew she was dying, so she ended it herself.

"You've got balls," I muttered to the picture. When she smiled shyly the way she was in that photograph, you couldn't tell every tooth was a razorblade or that her tongue was like a snake's. But you also couldn't tell she liked to lay in empty fields and watch the stars, or that she loved the smell of leather. That she dreamed of having the guts to take a nice car for a joyride and feel that thrill of doing something wild. Her favorite color was green, not black, and she hated pop music because she understood the sound of the outcasts. Opal dashed into the scene with open arms, ready to forgive and forget and become something they had never been, but Ronnie...

I stopped breathing. Everything was silent. Not a bird, not a bug, not the shift of the wind. Slowly, I turned to him. Heavily bleached hair, dark-circled eyes. He didn't look natural. There were scars everywhere on him and I didn't know why I didn't pay attention to them before. I pushed myself up to meet him face to face. "How long did you watch her?" I asked, taking the more mature route over _so they put Humpty Dumpty back together again after all._

He looked over my shoulder at them both. There was almost regret in his eyes. I didn't believe it. When an animal was trained to kill, it became their release. It became their pleasure. I didn't believe for a second that Pitch had the balls to be sorry for killing either of them. "How long did you watch them? Know them and watch the inevitable?"

"Long enough," he finally replied. His eyes flickered to me. "You know what's funny? You loved her so much...and we were just alike."

"I never hated you until you did this to me!" Fury boiled over, scalding the inside of my veins. "You could've just left well enough alone, Pitch! You never had to hurt them!"

"I did! You were the only person worth a damn! The rest of them...you're worth the whole damn lot put together. And you left me. You abandoned me, your own brother, for getting up some whore's skirt and going to parties with the wretched and divine."

I forced my emotions back. I kept myself in control. That was what he couldn't count on; Pitch never had any control. One of us had to stay logical. "You are my brother, more than anyone has ever been until now. You're my brother and I love you."

His eyes narrowed. "This Gandhi bullshit they taught you isn't you."

"You didn't have to kill anyone," I persisted, trying to continue.

"No," he replied. "I never needed to kill them. I should've killed you."  
His tactics were something I knew painfully well. He charged, I blocked. I threw him back. He rolled aside, leapt up and struck me with his pieced-together arm. The sharp crack of stone on stone reverberated through the empty courtyard and I slammed my shoulder into his chest. Fists balled, I went back for more. One sharp strike after another, cracking, smacking in a sound that shouldn't have been possible from the collision of stone. He hit back, snapping my head aside. I kicked him in the balls and slammed my knee up into his face. He stumbled back, giving me the chance to pull out the stone breaker. With it clutched in my hand, I remembered my parents. My dad and Prim's kids. I slammed my foot into his knee, listening to a sharp, reverberating crack, and then I slammed it into the other. He cried out and toppled. I thought of Ronnie, laying limp in my arms with her own venom in her veins. How she soothed Garrot. How much he suffered now. I cracked my elbow into his face. He snapped around and I took my open shot. I placed the drill-bit looking thing against his chest and hit the button. His eyes went wide.

_Crack._

The stone across his chest fractured in a short, concussive blast. All the lines that had come together over his face began to crack again. He grabbed my hand. It cracked. But then I noticed his knees were healing.

"I'm a basilisk, you moron," he replied. "You're going to have to do a lot better than that."

He snapped my wrist. I slammed my knee into his crushed chest.

"Granite!" Catrine yelled. "The vial!"

I dropped the smash box and grabbed the vial out of my other pocket. I looked up at her as she came running in, singed and clearly upset. "Give it to him and get back!"

I took the fastest route, cracking the glass in my hand and waiting until he was about to speak to throw it into his mouth. It burst. He let out a sound of absolute evil, slamming my back into the concrete. My skull made a sharp snapping sound, but thankfully, it didn't go dark. There was hot, sticky blood rushing down my neck, though. He held my fractured wrist still, drawing up to his full height to slam his sharp nails into my chest.

The stone wasn't reformed enough to fight off the stake that was shot from Catrine's crossbow into the center of his chest. He looked down for a moment before crumpling backward. Pain flashed through my arm, my skull...relief made my pounding heart all the more exhilarating.

"Granite!" Catrine ran over. I shifted slowly, clasping my hand over the back of my head. _Shit._ The puddle of blood that had already come out was pretty big. I pulled myself up as best I could and took hold of her for support. She was tiny, she didn't provide really any. My eyes, through no fault of their own, wandered back to Pitch. Blood streamed out of his mouth, black blood. Vampire blood.

"You are so fucking stupid," she said, trying to haul me along.

"You read," I teased. I was gonna go. I knew it. Shit, my head was pounding and I felt weak. It only took Manny hitting the ground in front of us, slamming down as hard as I did, bloody and scorched like a half-cooked hamburger, for Catrine to drop me. I crumpled down next to him. He looked a lot worse than I figured he was; I could tell he was breathing. But Catrine readied herself for a shot and let it go. The muted glint made me proud; iron arrows. It slammed into the chest of Pitch's cohort. He looked down, scaring us both for a moment, before he exploded in a shower of demonic gore.

"If you weren't my best friend's girlfriend or my girlfriend's best friend..." I muttered. Even if I wanted to finish the sentence, I couldn't. It was dark before my head hit the ground.


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22_

Granite had been making deep fried hamburger jokes since Manny woke up. It was likely only the contact of my skin to his that kept him from experiencing a rage fit strong enough to break the poor stone-tough boy in half. Poor Granite. He didn't even realize how badly he could've been hurt. A cracked skull, his wrist fractured in three places and he was still treating it like it was just another rough day. He laid his head on the pillow, texting Rochelle up a storm, promising to be there by tonight. I knew a boy like him couldn't take medical advice as much as Manny couldn't. They both persisted to their doctors to be free by nightfall, a feat that always ended up with the doctors looking to me for a service I could not provide. I might've been the only one in the room with a skirt and sense, but I was no miracle worker.

When Granite finally dozed off, I moved up in Manny's bed and shifted his pillow to lay his head on my lap. He nuzzled his head against my bare legs, kissing my knees and running his rough fingers up and down my calves. I traced his hair from his eyes and ran my fingers around the base of his short horns. He smirked up at me and suggestively twitched his brows. I rolled my eyes, "Behave yourself."

"You know, when these grow out..."

I blushed. "Manny Taur."

His teeth glinted in his wicked grin. "Kitten."

I blushed and lowered my eyes. His fingers ran slowly up my calves, dipping up over my knee and tracing up to the hem of my skirt. They hesitated only for a second before dipping below, tracing up to my hip and dipping slowly back down. I could've blamed my dependence on touch on being a cat, but it was more than that. Each stroke became slower, more sensual. He might've been rough, at times crude and most certainly one-track-minded, but he could play me like Temple Run. I glanced up from my averted gaze to make sure we weren't being watched, my breath hitching as his fingers ran up to my hip painfully slowly and began to drift. His head still laid innocently in my lap, but his touch teased me mercilessly. He paused halfway over my thigh and drew his touch downward slowly. I shivered and, against my better judgement, began to purr.

"Kitten," he murmured. "Y' think that worked for real this time?"

I muted my purring to wriggle from under his head, "I can go see-"

He grabbed ahold of me, pulling me close and dipping my body back down to his. There was a pad of gauze on his cheek, a mild scorching that would heal in a few weeks; the burns on his chest were the ones we would have to care for during the impending future. I pressed my hand very gently over them and kissed him softly. "I will be right back."

"Take somethin' to stab with," he murmured. I patted his firm stomach and winked, slipping my purse onto my arm. His eyes flicked over to Granite and back to me in time to catch me slipping out. Without staff in the hall, I stole down the proper corridors until I reached the morgue. Slipping my hand into my bag, I grasped the hilt of my second and only remaining stake and slid inside the unlatched door.

The room was frigid. Of course, it had to be with bodies in it. It smelled like death, and not in the best way. Death had a very distinctive smell. It was the smell of cold flesh, slowly rotting. Metallic with blood, foul with the waste relieved upon death. I reached out to one of the newer bodies and peeled back the edge. My breath came in a soft puff at the sight beneath, a random unfortunate soul I did not know. Recovering their face, I repeated the process until I had covered every body in the room and desperately looked to the locked refrigeration units for aid.

It was not just my parents' profession that had taught me to trust my instincts from a young age. My progressive deafening had been more of a sensory aid than I had come to realize, but stake still clutched in my hand, I rushed up to the recovery wing. If he had come in when we had and he was not in the morgue, then there was only one thing that could possibly have happened- they tried to save him. Perhaps they were successful. The Hippocratic oath didn't differentiated between good and evil the way we did. I had almost given up when I saw the solitary room, the heavily bandaged being inside. Whatever had been in his blood to keep him from breaking apart had been counteracted, and for that small miracle, I was grateful. His chest was bandaged, but I could tell the rest of him could not be. His legs were deformed from the jutting pieces of broken stone. His arms were gaping, slightly cauterized wounds tracing his visible skin. His face was the only thing that did not seem broken yet. Slightly cracked, but not yet broken. I looked upon the face of the man who caused Rochelle such pain. I saw him as a monster, and then I saw him as a man. And then I ripped away the bandages, tore off the monitors and slammed the stake back into the place they had removed it from.

He shot up like a bat out of hell, his jagged fist connecting with my jaw. A spray of warmth covered my chest from my suddenly searing chin. I turned off the monitors before their chiming could give our action away. There was fire in his eyes that was fading quickly. He charged to his feet, leapt at me and slammed his jagged body against mine. The fragile fabric covering my skin shredded as it poked and pierced the tender flesh beneath it. I struck out and drove my palm home, trying desperately to force he wood to break the bone. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. One side drooped. I pushed. The more he crushed me the more I slammed my body's force into the stake until finally I felt a give. A shift. We both collapsed, him free of me and my hands clasped around my neck, gasping wildly as I fought for the breath that eluded me temporarily.

_Oh thank you, sweet, blessed nine lives._ The cuts and scrapes piercing my skin, dashed like scattered grammar marks, began healing before I had the chance to rise. His eyes were open and the smell of death became resonating. To anyone else, it would not have yet set, but I was a cat. I knew the smell of death when I caught it.

I slipped out as calmly as I possibly could, tucking my arms around my torn and bloody clothes. I wiped my chin, surprised at the measure of red still remaining, and slipped back into the boys' room. They were both asleep, the difference between them so strikingly evident that it was almost comical. Granite, despite his pain, had curled up in a tiny ball. It was a sleeping pattern very common of females attempting to make room for lover and young. The nagging tone in the back of my mind nudged that he must not have had a bed alone for very long, lest he had one at all. Manny laid sprawled, king of his castle. Similar backgrounds, different people.

I wonder if Rochelle knew.

...

It was close to midnight when we had dropped off Granite at Rochelle's home and gone to our own. My thoughts had nagged at me throughout their sleep and persisted on the nearly silent drive home. My father, blessedly, did not talk. Manny slept, and I stared out into the vividly dark countryside. Hues of black ran together with hues of green, painfully and adequately making the world outside the interior space and the beam of our headlights a mystery. I thought of Manny's tender kisses to my legs and remembered when they had been broken, when I had been broken and harmed, and while everyone treated me like the fragile thing I might've been, he scooped me up and pressed me close. What was it about men that begged to be a savior? The world told women not to be, that it would only hurt them, and yet men like Manny and Granite stepped up when the time came. I wondered how much they had hated him. I wondered how awful he had been. It was hard to imagine Manny as anyone but the person he was to me.

My father's hand rested on my knee and squeezed away the worry. The frilly hem of my skirt fell halfway down his palm, but the warmth radiated. I placed my hand atop his without moving. Within the hour, the glittery golden lights of our home came into view and I slipped my seatbelt off as we reached the driveway. The halting of the car was enough to stir Manny. He unclasped himself and leaned forward to kiss my cheek, slipping from the car with his key in tow. It was no greater surprise than my father's to notice it hadn't been melted.

I attempted to leave too, but he touched my elbow in a silent summoning for me to stay. My breath released.

"Catrine..." he murmured. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes and restored them. "I'm very proud of you."

I smiled without joy. "You wouldn't be if you knew what I've done."

"The entire fact that you are here right now, alive, and the sole reason those boys are alive is enough to give me more pride than you'll ever understand."

I massaged my forehead. "I killed a boy my age today."

"He tried to kill you," he replied. "Catrine...there are going to be days when you will not understand why you fight to stay alive. You are going to grow old, you are going to hate me and resent me, and if you have children you will do it exponentially more. Just know that I am very glad you've learned how."

I looked at him with the exasperation most parents gave their kids. "Daddy, this isn't your doing. Honestly, this is no one's fault." I pushed out the door and rose. My father followed suit with an exhausted sigh. "I know, Catrine. Whatever brought this feud about is not what matters. It's that you've won."

His words brought a tiny smile to my lips as I followed Manny inside and wandered upstairs to my room. Perhaps I should've sent Rochelle a message, explaining to her in detail to read when she felt fully comprehensive. I massaged my sinuses and sunk down onto the soft carpeting. If I didn't make it to bed, I didn't make it to bed. My father's words stuck in my head and made the loss of a nice, new shirt worth it.


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23_

It was in those moments when I was alone that I found peace.

Sun on my face, tai-chi and meditation induced peace. The peace of the slow glide of a cool breeze over sun-warmed skin, instrumental music in my ears, free to breathe in as much air as my lungs could hold. I always returned, jarred back to the land of the living, more quickly than I wanted to.

My limbs were tingling, aching dully while Rochelle laid at my side. She was watching the movie she found among the stacks of the ones we had already completed, actually watching it. Without her notice, my eyes flickered down to my feet and I willed myself to move. The nerves refused to feel, but I focused the most of my energy that I could in attempting to pull my knee up and shift into a more comfortable position. The most I could muster was a muscle twitch that made my entire body spasm with pain. I cussed sharply. The aching gape in my back was leaking again, coating bandages with the blood of the sick and exhausted. Rochelle's eyes flickered up to meet mine, the corners of her indifferent expression pulling downward into a delicate, mild frown. I ran my fingers through her hair. It seared. I smiled.

"Are you alright?" she murmured.

I pressed my lips to the top of her head, "Of course, mon chere."

Her fingers linked in my shirt, up by my collarbone where I could still feel the sensation of her fingers on my skin. Thank god I could still move my limbs, even though the feeling was beginning to fade from my own hands. There was a very large part of me grateful for her constant presence. I did not want to live a life where I forgot the sensation of her hair falling over my fingers or her skin beneath my hands. She looked up to me seriously and sadly. I kissed her forehead. Her hands ran slowly over my chest. I kissed her nose. This time, she kissed me. My heart was tearing in two. Her lips were soft, smoother than silk. It was unfair to keep her flawlessness to myself. She had been so pure originally that it seemed insane to think her any different now that she forgot the mild use of makeup she had once indulged. I wound her hair around my fingers and mentally thanked God that I could feel her with me as much as I did.

"I'm so lucky," I murmured against her lips. Hers parted to speak, but I shook my head. "I am so very lucky to be with you, Rochelle. To be conscious, to be able to touch you. I don't know what I might've done if I didn't have the time I've had."

"Not suffered," she whispered.

I clasped her face in both of my hands, meeting her pretty blue eyes with my own and begging her to see that she was worth every ounce of my "suffering." My thumb traced her cheek in silence. I was here to brush those tears away this long. She would not be alone when I was gone. It was a thought I comforted myself with more often than she knew. Most men worried for their lovers if they would die. For Rochelle, I did not have to. She had no idea how grateful I was. I drew her face slowly down to meet mine. "You are a beautiful little fool," I teased her. She cracked a smile that morphed quickly into an expression of heartbreak. "I only wish that I had gone sooner, so you were not the one suffering."

She could've slapped me, I would've slapped me. Instead, she clasped her fingers in my hair the way I had hers and tried to shake me passively. A fresh trickle of salty pain traced her freckled skin to be brushed away by my fingers. She grasped me as tightly as she could and begged me with her eyes not to say such a thing. There was a blind beauty to a tragic love; there was no such thing as a happy ending, yet she had remained. I traced her soft skin. She sobbed softly. "I wish I had never caused you this pain," I whispered.

"Stop," she whispered, "This wasn't your fault."

There was a balance in the natural world, I believed that firmly. I had known someone was going to be killed that day, and it likely would've been Granite. It had been the fear that Rochelle could've been their achievable target that had spurred me to fight. I cracked a smile despite the pain she caused me. "Just remember I died for you."

"No," she croaked, rocking back on her heels. I wanted to nudge her to sit on my legs- it wasn't like I could feel them anyway- but she withdrew. Like a child longing for its parent, I reached out to her. She clasped the heels of her palms to her eyes to try to soothe away the tears. I forced myself to lean back and conserve my strength for her.

She snapped around like a cobra, tears running from her already reddened eyes and her expression so forlorn and desperate that I immediately regretted my words. "Why would you say that?!" she shrieked, her hands falling limply to her sides, coated in the moisture of her agony. "For god's sake, Garrot, if I could die to keep you alive don't you think I would?!" Her voice dropped to a quaking whisper through the thickness of her tears. It took all of my self-control to swallow the lump in my throat. "I _hate_ myself every single day. I look at you and I wish they had just done with me what they wished and let you be. I don't care what happens to the men who did this to you, what is done is done, Garrot..." She pressed her lips together while she searched for something else to say that hadn't yet been said. Her hand clasped gently to her chest as if she'd faint. "I wish I could've saved you."

I sighed, "Rochelle, you do not seem to understand that while I love you beyond all measure, the idea of trading your life for mine is precisely the one I worked to avoid."

She turned away from me, bringing her arms close across her chest. If only. I pushed myself up. I forced my limbs to try to move. I had been spared quite a bit outside of blood transfusions and nearly constant monitoring, I could force this much more. My diaphragm quivered and my stomach tingled. My legs were like weights and my body seared with pain, but I had to. I had to. She snapped around at the casting off of my sheet and immediately rushed to stop me. As soon as she was close, I clasped her to me and held her wrists tightly. "My death is not yours. I do not want my passing to kill you, I wish my pain wouldn't even faze you. No, you were cursed with a heart I love and I was cursed to love you. There is no greater pain to me than watching you suffer, and whether the relief of that costs me my life does not matter to me any longer, so long as you are allowed to heal!" Her emotions crashed into me like waves on the hull of a ship at shore. My hands trembled as they clutched hers. My lower lip quivered and I refused adamantly to cry. I had come this far with my tears in isolation, I would not allow her to share my pain when she had her own. Her own was as much mine as it was hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shaking as she sunk onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I'm sorry, Garrot, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

I clasped her to me with all of my force to silence her apologies. She kissed me. I felt the quivering cease. Her fingers wound in my shirt, clutching desperately. There was a dull ache in the back of my shoulders. I felt it, bubbling up slowly from the very center of myself. There was an emptiness inside me like hunger that slowly felt as if it were manifesting itself. I opened my mouth to breathe and found blood tracing its way down my chin. It splattered onto her upper arm, drawing her attention. The emotions transitioned on her face faster than she had the ability to change clothes. Tender-eyed sorrow became wide-eyed horror and a scream several decibels higher than I'd expected burst from her lips.

"Mama! Papa! _Garrot est suffocante!_"

I grasped her hand. She froze in place for a solid heartbeat, just long enough for my mind to register that I really was not breathing. Her fingers rose, hesitantly, to my cheek, clammy with her tears and newfound panic. As if needing to realize the situation was real, she snapped into action. Her talons sliced through the bandages, becoming coated in my own blood. She grabbed ahold of the plate and yanked. I felt the warmth gush onto her hands. I coughed. It was only a mild relief. There was more liquid coming. Her father and mine burst into the room and made their movements as quickly as possible. I wanted to scream, to plead with them that if she let go, it would slip back into place and stab me again. I begged Rochelle for relief with my eyes. She didn't understand, and if she did, she averted her gaze. Her desperate tone, begging her father for aid that he didn't know how to provide. My mother called an ambulance, shaking and barely holding her strength. The pain was excruciating. The men began arguing. I pulled Rochelle closer and reached for the tissues. She handed me a handful, allowing me to take them into my quaking hands and wipe my mouth.

"Garrot," she whispered, "Please. _Please_."

I could feel the muscle guiding my lungs laying flat. They stammered inside my body like limbs with no guiding muscles. I wiped my tongue as best I could and focused her eyes to mine. If I was going to die this way, I wanted it to be on my own terms.

"I love you."

I crushed my mouth to hers violently. The image of her burned into my mind. Pink lips, parted like the petals of a flower and as soft. Freckled skin, silken beneath my touch, flawless as flawless could be. Her eyes, red-rimmed and teary, filled with terror, guilt, and sorrow, but also devotion, adoration and love. Her hair, cotton candy pink with streaks of powder blue. Soft. Softer than velvet. My Rochelle, pressed warm and vulnerable against me, her body so weighted with grief and so alive with strength. To steal her breath with the last of mine would be an honor and a privilege that I intended to carry out.

I had never wanted last words beyond those. I had never needed them. Granite had heard my pleas and would carry out my promises. My parents had heard my comforts and knew that my pain would end. Rochelle was the only one who needed words beyond the ones I had already spoken, and with her I hoped she would carry the knowledge that it did not matter any longer who lived and who died- beyond my life, I would always love her. I did not care if she took another man for a husband later in her life, I did not care if it was with him she had her children and her future. I only cared that she would be happy and that she would live beyond me. It was her life that became the most precious thing in my world, and to share even a brief piece of it had been the thing that I would treasure in my next.

Her lips were soft. They gave against my own. She was crying, silently breaking inside. We both knew what was coming. My fingers locked in her hair.

_I love you._


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter 24_

Garrot lived for two hours after he became unresponsive. Rochelle was hysterical, and to absolutely no one's surprise, so was Granite. Doctors had needed further consent for the surgeries that had a slim chance of working. I think it was the hardest decision I had ever seen two people make. Manny and I took up the back wall while Rochelle occupied one side of his bed and Granite the other. Rochelle had already lost her hope, but it wasn't until Garrot passed peacefully that Granite lost his composure. I had never heard a boy scream that way with that desperation. He sounded like a child, and he could only throw so much of a fit. The time came quickly. They vowed to repair his wounds as best they could for his funeral. He had already designated any of his organs or blood that could be used, should be. I think there was a part of Rochelle that had faith then, knowing that a piece of him would survive somewhere in someone else. Perhaps they'd take his heart and it would wander back to her. I doubted his brain. It would've been nice to put him in a new body, but I doubted that could happen, even with Doctor Stein in the states.

I didn't know what the proper time to spend with a body was, but Manny and I were the first to go. I intended to wait for Rochelle, so long as it didn't take hours. It wouldn't. Perhaps that was the beauty of having known. She had prepared herself for this very moment in hopes of lightening the blow.  
There was a fish pond in front of the hospital, surrounded by patches of tall grass for ducks to graze in. Park benches were cemented down unevenly into the perimeter of the little lake. I wandered down to its very man-made edge and dipped in my sandaled toes. It was evening. It was hot. I had gone to school and I would go to school tomorrow. Guilt was churning inside my stomach, eating me alive slowly. I didn't know why the tears I shed were so few; did Rochelle love him too much? Had I come to cope with the idea of his death, my death, death in general? Or was I just too tired? Tired physically from school, tired emotionally from fighting, just tired. The abyss of adulthood loomed ahead of me, followed only by the abyss of death. Nothing was so sure anymore. A little, blue fish swam around my toes. I felt his scaly body brush my skin and didn't move. That fish was never going to worry about anything involving life outside the pond. Did he worry at all about his food? Surely they fed them here. Did he worry about the storms in the summer, or when the ice kept them in a stasis of frost in the winter months?

Rather than bothering any further with my thoughts, I laid back on the grass to rest; ants in my hair be damned. The soft thumping of heavy feet padding across the grass to me reached my ears, but I didn't budge. Manny sat with a bullish huff-snort and swatted my skirt back so it slid all the way up my legs. Modestly, I pulled it down and tucked it between them. My feet were still lapped by the water, and he shifted to lift my head onto his lap and run his fingers slowly through my hair. His skin was firm and almost rough on the pads of his fingers and his upper palms. I nuzzled his hand. He pet the top of my head and rubbed my ears until my knees draped slowly to the side and against my will, I laid contently on his lap with intent to purr.

"Kitten," he murmured, "You were here for her. That's all you could do."

The lump I had swallowed rose in my throat and my tearing eyes began to release the proper amount. His voice, soft and husky and warm in the tone he reserved for me, broke my resolve. I sat up and crawled into his lap. His muscled limbs, firm and strong, enclosed around me. I tucked my head under his chin and released the salty evidence of loss onto the collar of his shirt. "I should've at least tried."

Rochelle burst out of the doors then, screaming at Granite like I had never heard. I forced myself to swallow my tears and jump to my feet. My sopping shoes picked up dampness in the grass and smacked the pavement wetly as I raced over the parking lot to shield him from her blows.

"How dare you!" she shrieked at him, "One third of our senior class at least was pregnant, set to marry the father of their children, and I never got that! They got everything, and I will never have that with Garrot the way I should've!"

"Nobody was stopping you two!" he snapped in defense, his arm raised to shield himself. Her talons had caught him across the skin a few times, leaving uneven scrapes in their wake. I pried her back, grasping her by her forearms desperately. She clutched me like a rag doll, looking at Granite with her pleas in her eyes. He turned away from her, betrayal in his, his hand clasped loosely over the arm she had scratched.

"Rochelle," I murmured, "I think it's time to take you home."

"No!" she shouted, tears running down her face again, "Catrine!"

I turned away from the boys to meet her eyes. "There is nothing keeping you here anymore."  
My words struck her at the very moment she seemed to need them the most. Granite looked up; even in his moments of betrayal, he had to gauge her reaction. It was almost asinine the way he orbited around her, but that was true. Love was a very asinine thing. She looked at him, her expression falling slowly. There was so much expression in her now, it was as if she had soaked up the remaining life that Garrot was able to give her. She sunk downward slowly until she sat on the pavement on her backside. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself as if it was the most true statement anyone had spoken to her. There was nothing keeping her at this hospital. There was nothing keeping her in Scaris, or even in France. I knew there was perhaps two other things keeping her alive, if she did not want to see me that way, and perhaps Granite either. Then she just had Roux. But Rochelle propped her chin up on her knees and took deep, slow breaths of horrified air.

I didn't notice Manny had slipped away until he pulled up in my father's car. Mechanically, Granite wandered over and slid into the passenger's door, and I was forced to pull Rochelle to her feet and help her into the back seat. I glanced toward the automatic doors and watched the gargoyles inside. Garrot's grief-stricken parents were hardly consoled by Rochelle's. As far as they had thought, they had both lost a son. My hands were trembling; I had no words for them. I slid inside the back seat with her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She sunk against me like a lead weight. I didn't bother with our seatbelts; she was so tired, so heavy that should we crash she would've held me safely in place. I ran my fingers through her hair, paying careful attention to brushing my claws against the spots where her hair clumped to free the tangles.

We rode in silence. Manny didn't speak, nor did Granite, nor did I. Rochelle sobbed quietly and I caught sight of Granite's face streaked in silent tears. My own were forced down by the weight of responsibility. Manny knew as well as I that going home to them would be pointless tonight. He drove them out to the country with us, allowing the flickering gold of the street lamps to flit across their faces within the tinted windows of my father's car. The farther we went, the more I found myself cherishing the moment of light when for a heartbeat, all of us were illuminated and everything was visible again.

When we pulled up to the house, the outside lights were on. Crickets and cicadas sang their autumn song, and I gently helped Rochelle to her feet. She slumped against me limply. Granite trudged ahead of the both of us, following Manny inside. My father had waited up, and upon Rochelle meeting his gaze, he abandoned his volume to rise. He brought her into his arms like his second daughter and held her tightly while she cried. I slipped off to make us dinner only to find it already done and awaiting us.

"Kitten," Manny murmured. I glanced back to Granite, standing awkwardly in my foyer. I sunk into a chair with nothing else to do, folding my legs up in a sitting cross and leaning my elbows on the table. My head dropped into my palms and I clutched my hair in desperation. Thank god I had my father. Their poor parents weren't going to be much use for a while, at least mine could try. Manny pulled up a chair right beside me and put his napkins over mine. The show of support was enough to give me the trigger I had waited for. I clasped a hand over my mouth and allowed the excruciating sound of disbelief to burst into it. He clutched my arm and pulled me close, seemingly shocked at the force with which it muffled. I curled into him, tucking my face into his chest and bawling.

Garrot was gone. That was it, there was no coming back from the dead for people like him. There was no magical cure, there was no miracle today. The good men always died. With absolute force, I slammed my closed fist into my knee and screamed in defiance into my hand. He caught my hand as it came back up to deliver another blow on my too-white skin. It was obscured by fur, so if I bruised myself I couldn't tell. I wanted to hit my knee until the frustration subsided. I'd have punched the wall, but that might've really hurt me. The strong bands of muscle composing his arms wound around me and tucked me close the way a linebacker defended a football. I ceased breathing against his chest for a moment. The natural smell of fabric softener and soap-cleaned skin took me on a sensory overload. Comfort conflicted with grief. My best friend's sobs on my ears threw me into loss and Manny's gentle touch against my waist tried to soothe me. I curled into him. I let my hand fall away and took a slow, unsteady breath.

"Why?" I found myself whispering.

He didn't answer. That was one of the things I loved about Manny the most- if he didn't know, he didn't try to bullshit his way through it. He just sat here and supported me, because he and I both knew he could do that. A part of me wanted to get up and throw those two together, because I also knew that Granite would be the only one who could support Rochelle right now too.


	25. Chapter 25

_Chapter 25_

The couch at Catrine's was a lot different than the couch at Rochelle's. The DeMew house was out in the country, so there wasn't...any noise whatsoever. I couldn't even hear the bugs while we were inside. I could hear people moving around until they weren't, then I had to put on the TV quietly. After about three hours of some French hospital soap opera, I figured I was picking up the basics and tried to go to sleep, except I couldn't. I just couldn't. I flicked off the TV, but that wasn't helping. It took maybe five minutes to end me up in Manny's room. It might've been Thursday at two-fifty-four, but he was fully awake. I tried to figure out where everything changed and my best friend became my arch enemy, where Manny took his place and then grew up along the way. Seriously, all I could think about was how it was two-fifty-four AM and Manny Taur was sitting at his laptop, actually doing schoolwork and not watching porn. If we were in high school...

I sat on his bed. Maybe I didn't know him that well. I stared at the back of his head until he turned around. He was picking up on Catrine's habits; he had this asinine little smirk on his face like he knew exactly why I was there, just like she did. Difference being, it was cute on her.  
"You know like half the people we went to school with have blogs now?" he commented. "Nothing changed. Just our location."

I was almost interested, but I still felt cold. I didn't even know what I'd done to make her angry. I'd just...I think I tried to hug her. We were both past consolable anyway. Manny kept on, though. I think he knew I needed a distraction. "Anyway, most of the chicks do. Gory made some offhand comment on a post that didn't have a lot of fame to it yet and people got on her last night. I may not have been buddies with her or anything, but dude. That was just low. She's taking it pretty well, though. Cleo's going on about how there's no such thing as bad press, yadda yadda...Frankie's posting that fifty-years-of-MLK stuff." He turned in his chair and looked at me, smirking a lot more widely than he had been before. "It's literally the exact same as it was when we were in school."

I shrugged and let myself fall over in bed. Ugh. I didn't want to acknowledge how nice it was to sleep in a bed, but man was it nice. He said something I barely caught, like "you do know there is another guest room" or something. I closed my eyes and buried my face into the sheets. I guess I fell asleep, because he left me alone for a while, and I was only slightly aware of time passing. I did get nudged aside, though, and as awkward as it should've been, I woke up next to Manny with a pillow jammed hopelessly between the two of us to keep us on respective sides. It had been beaten down several times already and I let it get crushed under his bulk as I moved.

I got up, used the bathroom and found myself migrating all over. It wasn't even sunrise, but I was more awake than I had been in weeks. Mr. DeMew's room was the only one with the door actually closed. I paused outside of Catrine's to justify any kind of wandering in. Listening for a moment, I didn't have to. I peeked in to find Rochelle tossing in her sleep on the day bed unfolded in the center of her room. Christ, while Manny had a room, Catrine had an entire apartment. I walked over silently and nudged her. She flinched. Against my better judgement, I dropped myself onto the soft purple cushions and put my arms around her. She folded into me, her fingers clenching in my shirt and face buried in my shoulder. It was only when I laid my face against her neck that I realized I woke her with the initial nudge, and she was letting me get away with things now.

"I'm sorry," she finally murmured. Once the silence was broken, there was no going back. Her best friend was a werecat and sleeping maybe five feet away; she would definitely hear every word. I nodded, sparing myself for privacy as much as I could, but she didn't speak again. "I am too," I murmured against the hollow of her throat. She ran her fingers through my hair slowly, locking them there momentarily. "Granite...it will be okay. I will be okay, I just...don't know how."

I shrugged, "Time." Even though time screwed everybody, it would eventually stop screwing us long enough to help us heal. Her nose pressed gently against the inside of my neck and I ran my fingers softly through her hair. We shifted positions only slightly so I could hold her comfortably in my arms. I traced her hair down to the curly ends, winding them softly around my finger. She laid against me exhaustedly. That was probably where we both were- in a state of mental and emotional exhaustion. There wasn't any real mourning left to be done since we had done so much of it together. It didn't even feel like we should've still been capable of it without him; he was the one who really had something to complain about.

I rubbed my eyes and shifted onto my back. Her fingers tightened in my shirt. "Granite...I want to go back to Salem."

I couldn't say I was entirely surprised, the thought had crossed my mind before too. Back home where we belonged...or kind of belonged. I propped my head up on my elbow and looked down at her, "Why don't we just go?"

She looked up at me in confusion.

"Go," I pressed, "Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here and not Salem."

She looked at me sadly. The plans we'd had for so long felt so...belittled. I wrapped my arms more tightly around her body and pressed her close. More than willingly, she tucked her head under my chin and nestled her warm, sweet-smelling skin against my shirt. "I don't know if I can promise you that."

I shrugged. "I didn't ask for one."

...

It was kind of all I had, and even then it wasn't much. I sat on the floor of the bedroom where Garrot and I had spent the last few months, and I couldn't bring myself to take his bed. It was still his. Rochelle was still his. This family was still his, his car, his life. It was as if I had just been thrust into it like the guy who played spider-man in that movie when he was transported into his TV. I couldn't bring myself to get up off the floor. His parents couldn't bring themselves to come uphold their promise. At least Rochelle had brought herself to stop crying. It was a collective sigh of relief and understanding that she had spent the past six months grieving over Garrot, and maybe she wasn't going to heal right away, but she was going to stop crying. So that left me to me. Manny and Catrine had lives to continue on with; they could grieve, but not like her. I didn't even know how I planned on doing it myself, I didn't really know how.

I compared his clothes to mine. The places where he had worn them well didn't show as well for him. It was a very white collar life. I didn't know why I was just noticing it. I didn't know why I decided that now, I wanted to notice the title of every book on the shelves and every channel he had been watching. My fingers ran over his nice shirts; the arms were too narrow for my own. The only thing I allowed myself to do was sink onto the edge of his bed the way I had. Was his blood still on it? How about his smell? I couldn't sleep in this bed. I could hardly sleep in Rochelle's.

"Do you have a suit?"

She interrupted my thoughts as if nothing was wrong. Either she was in denial, or she had finally cracked, but I proved myself wrong. Her eyes were red-rimmed again, and that got me up. She crossed the floor to my closet and rifled through my clothes. I got up slowly, "You...have a dress?"

She nodded slowly. My arms wound around her waist. I sighed, propping my chin on her head, "Roxy...are you okay?"

She didn't meet my eyes, only ran her fingers softly over one of my shirts. Releasing the sleeve in her grasp, she turned and pressed her face into my chest. Away from them, away from everything but me, she fell apart like a broken vase put together with edible glue. "Make it stop," she murmured. Her tears left dark spots on the fabric between us. I gave her a supportive squeeze, "I wish I knew how. I really do."

_A/N- I am really sorry that this is short and took forever to write today. I'm really, really tired. Please forgive me, it's been an exhausting week._


	26. Chapter 26

_Chapter 26_

There was something about funerals that just came off like total bullshit to me. Everybody expected everyone else to dress nice, even though they were in the worst state they could've possibly been in, and then they listened to a guy in a bathrobe preach about things they didn't know about. At least Garrot made sure they enacted some respect for the dead. There wasn't a lot of flowers, since he left his instructions for something else I didn't pay attention to; he left the planning to his parents, not us. Rochelle was my problem.

We were there long before everyone else. Rochelle went with his parents to talk to the priest, so Garrot and I were alone in the church just like we had been those weeks ago when we got here that first night. I sat in the front pew and put my foot up on the shelf of the podium thing where the bible was, and I looked at him. It was open coffin, and it felt like the only difference between then and now was his position. When people say death was noticeable, they were bullshitting. Garrot looked like he fell asleep thinking. I half expected him to turn toward me, open his eyes and crack a smart remark. Rochelle managed to get me in my nice pants and a button down shirt that didn't look like it belonged on a moose hunter (her words, not mine), but I didn't put on a tie. I didn't take off my jacket either. I wasn't about to pose for his family when I never posed for him.

Dragging my elbow up the back of the pew, I propped it up and ran my hand through my hair. "Even though this was kind of selfish of you, I still find myself liking you enough to be here." It wasn't like I expected him to answer, but people were kind of right when they talked about talking to the dead. It did feel like he could hear me, so I talked at him like I normally did. "Yeah, I know, life is shit and you're one of the lucky ones, but come on. You could've done me a favor and done it outside or something. I'm about to be stuffed in a room full of like two hundred crying people, somebody's gonna pass gas and we're all gonna suffocate."

If he were alive, he would've smiled. He might not have responded, but his mouth would've turned up to let me know he was listening. I got up and wandered over, looking down at him. He looked great for a dead guy. I propped my elbows up on his casket and sighed. He didn't smell dead either; he smelled like his cologne. I kept trying to tell myself that he was dead, but I had to physically reach in and make sure his heart wasn't beating to believe it. People just weren't supposed to wear death that well. "You never were normal."

I let out my breath slowly and pulled back my hand, but I didn't leave him. For some strange reason, I felt like my obligation to him wasn't over yet. I pretended I didn't know every word he'd written, but I did. I pretended Rochelle was the one fussing over the plans more than me, but that was complete bullshit. I had to make sure they followed what he wanted, I was the big, intimidating guy. They listened to me. I didn't get the chance to make it up to him while he was alive, I had to do it while he was dead.

"I don't know how I expected to be able to thank you," I muttered to him. "I know you wanted her to have somebody, to...I don't know. Give to the needy or whatever it was you saw in me. But all of this...dude, you needed to be a little selfish. You needed to give me something to say about you sarcastically. The only thing I get to joke about is how much you loved everybody, and how much you kept everybody taken care of, even when it should've been about you." I could've hit his casket, but it was perfect. Sometimes it pissed me off how perfect he got. "You were my best friend and you were the biggest asshole I had ever met in my life. You were real behind all that perfect, and I don't know how to tell people that. You thought about sex, you made asinine comments, you cursed at video games, you were a real person. And people are going to look at you and they're not gonna believe me, because there's no way in hell a guy like you had a friend like me and a normal life. Rochelle, that's who they can believe. Because she's a fucking angel, and you didn't deserve to get stuck with me and normalcy. Shit, you're the kid that they're all going to talk about until we all kick it, you're the kid who would've done great things."

I didn't even hear her crossing the soft carpet in her dress shoes, but Rochelle's hands pressed to my back. I froze. She settled in against me, fingers twisting in my jacket until I turned. Her hair still curled at the ends, but I noticed it draped just over her shoulders now. She looked so fucking gorgeous in her black dress with the elbow-length, sheer sleeves. From her neck to her knees was cloaked in black velvet, and I could practically see the delicious curves of her bra under her clothes. She had on sheer, black stockings beneath that dress, leading down into her shiny black shoes. Garrot's rings sat around her neck on a chain. Her makeup was soft, subtle and beautiful; I didn't have to be a girl to know that mascara was waterproof. Her lips weren't glossy, but they had been pinked slightly. I wanted to kiss them. She clung to my jacket, forcing a sad smile. "He loved you too," she whispered. "He wanted to be like you. He thought you were one of the best people in the world."

It felt like such bullshit, but I just nodded. We both glanced to him, even if he wasn't our third wheel anymore. My arms wound gently around her pretty curves. She looked up at me sadly, shyly, and I couldn't help but try to lighten the mood. "You look so sexy."

"You're in a church, Granite, you need some class," she said, faking irritation.

I shrugged and gave her a squeeze, "Oh yeah? I'd put you up on that railing up there...let you bite me so nobody had to hear...come on, you can't tell me you're not looking forward to doing _that_ again."

She swatted me lightly, but she didn't make me let go of her. Even when people came, she let me stay with her. There was a lump in the lower back of my throat that went away only when I caught whiffs of rose and sea silk shampoo and elegant, powdery perfume that reminded me of debutante dinners. She held my hand through the service until she got up to speak. I didn't, because I told him what I needed to tell him. Her hands shook and she hadn't planned a thing. She shed tears, and she made them feel with the kind of profoundness that people just didn't experience normally. When she came back, I wrapped her up in my arms and I held her. The funeral and the memorial were together- another benefit of having time to plan these things. We rode in the limo together in absolute silence, paired off like birds. There was a hole in the ground at the swell of the hill with a big ass stone in place already. His parents went to pieces. Roxy stayed strong for me. If it was possible, I fell in love with her even more then. Some boys he knew, his father and Roxy's put his casket on the thing to lower him in. She held my hand and let me squeeze her arm supportively. They put flowers all over the top and they put him in the ground, and his mother was crying so hard she was shaking. The grim looks, the desperate sobs and the monotonous drone of the priest reading out of his scriptures finally kicked both of us over the edge. I squeezed Rochelle's arms a little tighter and she clutched my hands. Silent tears rolled down her face from the corners of her eyes, squeezed shut in an effort to keep herself in control. I pressed my cheek to her head and felt the dampness on my own.

"Oh please," she whispered, breaking all of the sounds for me. "Granite...please. Make it stop."

I kissed her head. My arms wound around her tightly, holding her together in the way that neither of us could do for ourselves. She clutched my jacket. _Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for you are with me._

"It's okay," I whispered into her ear. "He wanted this, Roxy. He's okay now." I paused, putting it in context for her. "Gatsby turned out okay."

A silent, rueful laugh bubbled over her lips, turning them upward in an agonized smile for a second. Our eyes met and she curled herself into me, watching the rest of the crowd pay their respects, the priest finish his words, his parents drop onto the soft grass that looked way too green for the lack of rain we'd been having. I held her because I didn't know how to do anything else. They looked at us in passing, giving us that look of _those poor kids,_ like we were eight and siblings instead of teenagers in love. She held me so tightly. Her breath was shaky and warm on my skin and I wanted to just absorb her, just bring her into myself and let her know it was going to be okay, because I was there. It wasn't much, but I was there, and I swore to Garrot I wouldn't let her fall. The word before God could be done by anybody, but promising Garrot meant something. We stood there and waited until everyone had gone and Garrot's parents got up slowly, backed by Rochelle's. My dark humor almost hoped they'd push them in with the coffin. They might as well have; they lost their only son. I ran my fingers through Rochelle's hair.

"Take me home," she murmured as she turned her face into my chest. I nodded, gently guiding her away, but she paused. She threw a desperate look back at the headstone, back at the open grave and I almost thought I'd have to stop her from leaping in with him, but she looked at me and she shook her head as she took a deep breath. "No, don't take me home. Take me anywhere but home. Take me somewhere, Granite...please."

I stared at her blankly. "We still have to go get the car."

She nodded, grasping my hand as we stumbled to the mourning limo. As per his instruction, we didn't bother keeping our guests any longer. It dropped us off at home and Rochelle went for my car. Still in her pretty dress, still as gorgeous as could be, she slid inside and sat motionless. I considered just leaving us in the driveway in the privacy of the plastic and metal shell, but I climbed in eventually myself, and I pulled away.

We ended up in the lot where Veronica and I had gone, parked on top of the spot where I had laid and watched the stars. We stared at the sun draping down through the trees like limp gold lace in absolute silence.

"I love you," she finally said to me.

I glanced to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, "I know."


	27. Chapter 27

_Chapter 27_

There was something exceptionally beautiful about uncertainty. Never knowing what the next moment would bring was a part of human life, but after Garrot's funeral, it seemed so present between us that it was physical. There was a ball of anxiety sitting on my diaphragm. I felt asthmatic, that was how hard it had become to breathe. I was terrified. I wound my fingers in the fabric of my dress and sighed. Granite and I had been in this spot for too long, it seemed, but I couldn't control that. I didn't want to go home. I swallowed the air and released my breath, glancing to him with slight terror. He reached over and laced his fingers with mine. "It's gonna be alright."  
I just nodded. Slowly, he leaned in and brought me closer to him. I tore my gaze away from the world outside the car to catch his eyes before he kissed me lovingly. One tender kiss grew from there, and very soon Granite's mouth was on my neck, feverish as could be, my fingers locked in his hair, and I realized that I very adamantly did not want to go back where we had come from. His hands felt beautiful, running up and down my back slowly while he pressed wet, hungry, passionate kisses to my skin. The kisses trailed up to my jaw, kissing my chin, his face tucked under my chin to kiss all of my skin, before dipping back down and eagerly making his way down to the collar of my dress. I tugged his hair gently, "Take it off."

He paused, then slid his fingers softly up my legs. I crawled onto his lap as he pushed up the hem of my dress. He paused, reaching up to grasp the teardrop pull on the zipper at the base of the back of my neck, and tugged it fully down. I had never seen him look at me that way, not with the force of which his eyes held now. He slipped the weak fabric off and puddled it into the seat beside us. With a soft sigh, he ran his fingers over the places where I had been made to heal. The cracks at the back of my shoulders were healed now, the stony skin tender under his fingers. His eyes ran over me, followed tenderly by his fingers. He was noticing the changes, I knew. His thumbs brushed my stomach and I sighed, trying not to laugh.

I leaned my head against his, drawing his eyes up to meet mine. "How are you so insightful for the boy with the motorcycle?"

He smirked, twitching his shoulders slightly as if he didn't know. I mimicked him. As eager as he had been to get my clothes off, he spent a lot more time staring at me than either of us had expected. A soft sigh passed his lips, his fingers sliding slowly over my back while he brushed his fingers over my skin. "It's not fair," he muttered, "You're not supposed to look this good after all this shit."

I blushed. Catching the floppy locks of his hair in my hands, I tugged his face up to mine and lowered myself onto his lap, "Must you always be so..."

"Honest?" he muttered. I could've sighed with bliss as he leaned in to resume his kissing over my skin, focusing on my collarbone this time. The touch of his lips on my skin awoke something that I had not felt in a very long time; it was not the fabric-tearing passion that had begun our relationship, but rather the smoldering adoration that I felt with Garrot. I pressed my lips together in a very thin smile. He saw, no matter how composed I tried to keep myself. His head dipped, pressing me back against the steering wheel. I caught ahold of the edge, winding my fingers around it as he kissed my stomach softly. "Granite," I murmured. His eyes lifted; a part of me knew that his passion had never been hindered, only contained. It made me sick to the very center of my being that I felt this way, but I felt as if some kind of balance between us had been restored. I ran my fingers softly through his hair, holding back the tears that threatened to burst out upon meeting his gaze.

"Staying in here won't give us enough room," I murmured.

He broke into a witty, sweet grin. "I'd hate to have someone wander up. People do think you're a lady."

I smacked his arm, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He laughed and tugged me closer. "That I love you." His fingers linked in the back of my bra and popped the clasp. I found myself laughing only to pause upon the release of fabric, my chest pressed to his. He stared deliberately into my eyes, allowing the fabric to weaken as it was peeled slowly away. I could feel my heartbeat stammer in a way it had not in a very long time.

"Maybe we do need the space," he murmured, still keeping it from fully releasing. My heart felt swollen in the most pleasant kind of way. I traced his jaw and kissed him lightly in hopes to provoke him as gently as possible. With a soft sigh, he withdrew and let it drop. "Back seat," he muttered in surrender.

We lay there afterward, tangled in each other and covered by something too rough and in too strange a shade of green for me to really believe it was a blanket. The leather seats beneath us were soft. I shifted closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder while he traced his talons teasingly over my spine. His breath released in a tender huff, clearing my mind. My eyes flickered up to his face, "What?"

"I just realized...I've been behaving myself a lot more than I wanted to."

I shook my head, "You just did no such thing."

His eyes were burning with pure and utter beauty. I ran my fingers over his skin, tracing the smoothness of his stone under my talons. He leaned in, watching me, whispering teasingly in my ear, "I think you left a mark."

My face burned. He laughed. It felt so selfish of me, and yet it felt so right. I didn't quite understand why I wanted to try this, to push as far as I had, but there was some speck of hope in my mind that my soul was clinging to desperately. It became rekindled against my will every time he touched me. His arm was open to my head, his fingertips and talons tracing patterns on my skin. Despite everything women tried to preach about the macho kind of men, Granite seemed to enjoy nothing greater than being close to me. It was exceptionally strange to think that I had found two men in my lifetime with the capabilities to share both physical and emotional intimacy with me. It felt as if I had robbed someone else of their better half.

The thought made my fingers pause. "If Garrot were not dying when you met Veronica..."

He laughed out loud, already sure of where my question would go. "Roxy." He spoke his name for me in such a purr that I could ignore the connotation he held it in. It sent a shudder beneath his fingers and made him grin even more. "Do you really think I could want another woman when I stole you already?"

He nudged me onto my back, and with burning cheeks I obliged. He covered me under his body tenderly, pressing his lips lightly to my skin. Sometimes I forgot that I had not originally intended to be his in the most deeply intimate sense of the word. I had thought, at best, he and I would go on a few dates, perhaps hit it off and go steady. I never had the thought that he might think he ought to give his life for me, or that he would stand by me when all of this had come to pass.

He nudged me gently, "Hey. Did you hear me, or are you still kinda...?" He whistled as if that was the proper emotion to describe my experience with him. I curled my toes and pressed myself close to him, "Knowing you, I would say no. Going entirely off myself, I don't know why you're so good to me."

The look he gave me spoke more volumes than I would've liked to know. My face flushed and I grasped a fistful of his hair to tug. He pretended to wince, a small smirk dancing on his lips. I kissed him freely. "I think we should go on an adventure," I murmured.

He grinned, "Ooh. An adventure?"

The instinct rose to run. Fight or flight had become a reflex in regards to this amount of pain. Garrot was gone, nothing held us here. If I repeated it to myself enough I could justify my reasons. Everyone expected me to grow up, to go to school like Catrine and make something of myself, but I was afraid. I couldn't let go of this just yet, this reckless irresponsibility that seemed to follow him and his teenage glee everywhere he went. Maybe one day we would grow up to become something productive and new, but tonight, I wanted to spend with him in his car. I wanted to hold him, kiss him and pretend that we had forever instead of a limited time.

"Clawdeen Wolf's parents backpacked. I want to drive. Just...live out of the car for a while."

He rose his brows, "You lost your mind." The shock only remained on his features for a moment before morphing into a content little grin. "I like it."  
We intended to lay there until the sun fully set, until we had forged our plans in our starry minds and maybe let ourselves slide off into the clouds for short breath. Maybe I could pretend that I was not as responsible and as poster-child as my family wanted me to be. I took a slow breath and buried my face into his chest; yes, we were both in need of a great adventure.

_A/N- I'm sorry guys. Some storms are supposed to be rolling in tonight and I had to rushed to get done ^^'' I don't know my word count yet but damn I hope it meets._


	28. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28_

It shouldn't have been this easy. The thought crossed my mind as I packed my bags all over again. An empty bed and a half-full closet would be all I had arrived to and all I would leave behind. I'd done this before; it was always a matter of time before I did it again. In an hour, I had myself removed and loaded into my new car while Rochelle kept making her decisions. My only real active decision was to have the guts to go into the kitchen and eat food I didn't see as my own, though the moment I entered, I wished I hadn't.

The light above the stove was still on, a boxy blue teapot still warm on its burner. Seated at the table, Garrot's mother looked up to meet my eyes briefly. She had a journal open under her hands, full of assorted pictures and pressings and handwriting that was both elegant and scribble at the same time.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"You're leaving," she said quietly, understanding in her tone. I didn't think she liked me much. I pulled out food, finding it hard to look her in the face while I made myself a plate, "Yeah. Rochelle and I are. It's been a rough couple of months."

"You lost your parents," she murmured, "You have lost quite a bit recently."

"Parents, brothers..." I tried to pass it off as nothing, but my breath started sticking. I popped a plate of food in the microwave for a couple minutes and stared at it. I found myself thinking that my sometimes were quite frequent, and the effort I put into indifference was a lot of effort wasted. I turned and looked at Garrot's mom. She was already looking back down at his journal.

"He loved you to death, y'know," I muttered. "Both of you. You guys and Rochelle were tied for how much he loved you."

She sniffed, brushed away a few half-fallen tears and looked at me. I probably hadn't noticed it much before, but they looked a lot alike. I didn't go sink into the chair and have a heart to heart, but she smiled anyway. "Thank you. I know he meant well, but no one can ever replace your family. He shouldn't have put you in the position he did. Caring for us is not your responsibility."

I ran my fingers through my hair, making it ruffle backward and up like bird feathers. She gestured to the top of my head, making sure that I got the wayward strand back down as I released my hold on it. The microwave released its mocking beep and I produced my food. I grabbed a fork and joined her at the table. She watched me for a very long time, her hand on one of the little drawn portraits in Garrot's journal. I kind of recognized it. It was a very vivid, almost three-dimensional Fleur-de-lis, sketched in graphite so it looked like it was made out of pure iron and encased in a slow, downward spiral of realistically drawn ivy. Spearing the chicken-slash-turkey-slash-whatever it might've been, I forced myself to glance away. I imagined that somewhere on the grounds of the school, probably where the forest crept over onto the campus.

"He cared for you greatly," she murmured. "At first, when he told me about you, there was tension, but somehow still quite a bit of admiration. It only increased with time."

I rubbed my hands over my eyes, unsure of how to reply.

"At least stay the night," she said quietly. The journal in her hands thumped shut and she grasped it up beside her teacup. Hesitating for a moment, she set it down by my elbow and patted my shoulder in passing. "We've lost one son, the least you can do is humor the lot of us into knowing you're safe when you go."

I nodded, even if she wasn't waiting for a response. The silence following her exit was maddening. I flipped open his journal just for the sound of turning the pages, and while it took me a minute to realize there were actually words among the beautiful drawings and scraps of things. Every few pages, something would stand out: pressed flowers taped onto a page- some hemlock, a yellow leaf in a perfect spade, a half-bloomed bud of one of his roses, all set perfectly intact for people to see should they ever stumble upon his special little book. I flipped the page and nearly dropped my plate onto my lap. I'd taken his art for granted. He managed to draw Roxy unlike I'd ever seen anybody drawn or photographed. It was probably one of those far off emotive portraits that people who were really in love managed to get done while they were apart from each other, but it sure as hell beat the shit out of everything else I'd ever seen. He managed to capture on two pages of parchment what most artists couldn't capture on a full-sized canvas. There was a trail of roses leading up to her and extending past her; they must've been at some public garden or something. I could practically feel the dents in the brick from weather erosion and the places the vines were poking through the supporting cement, and I felt like I knew her expression more than just the glimpse he managed to convey. I knew the awe and the delight in her face, the contentment turning her lips up just slightly at the corners and the complete rest that she would've been experiencing. She had no idea that a year from this sketch everything would be destroyed.

I found myself stopping there. No, they weren't my responsibility directly, and Garrot really didn't have a place giving them to me to be, but they were indirectly. I caused their problems indirectly. I had been the one in need of something to cling to, something to make me human.

I heard the quiet steps down the stairs and knew she was coming. I left the picture of her in full view while I finished eating the leftover funeral food. It was one hell of a contrast; Garrot's memories, coated in love-sick hope and the taste of misery, trapped even in the food.

"I need more time," she said, laughing as she entered. She saw the journal and she stopped, and I turned around to see the comparison of her face. Call it twisted, but I wanted to see the life in her again. It did seem like she was alive. Her eyes, though still so carefully composed, seemed brighter and her smile didn't seem so forced. The way she moved seemed to have a flow again, her black sweats with the glittery white lettering along the hip limp on her curvy figure, her top like a boy's undershirt made to fit her more slender body. The relaxation and the beauty that it seemed we'd been piecing back together seemed to fall away, but not into despair. Curiosity filled her eyes, warring with pure, sentimental awe. She crossed over to the book and lifted it as if beholding a sacred text and ran her fingers over the indents of his pencil. He'd pressed so hard that even if it were erased, the picture would remain imprinted in the page. Her face, her contemplation, her peace. Every detail of the roses and the walls and everything that made her beautiful. I shifted my chair and pulled her onto my lap. She stared down at the picture with such an intense silence that I thought for a moment she might cry. Instead, she began to smile silently, and she turned the page with the strength I did not have.

This one had a photograph stapled on one side. His words scrawled across the page, never entirely straight. Some places they ran so close together it would've taken a professional translator to unbind them. She flipped the page again, that smile growing, the life returning to her as if she had to physically touch it to absorb it. I reached up, brushing her bangs back, ruffling her hair and throwing it completely out of place as I guided her back against me. Her back to my chest, her bottom on my legs, the insides of her knees against my kneecaps. I could feel her breath passing through her lungs.

Watching Rochelle come to life was like watching the world break from a solid day of late summer rain. It was a physical brightening, lighting up the world as far as the eye could see. I was waiting for the sun to break through the end of the light, lingering clouds. I pressed her close to me, resting my hand on her knee and the other still on her head. "You still wanna go?"

"Being happy here once does not mean I can't be happy elsewhere," she murmured. She closed the journal and dropped it on the table, turning her body on my legs to face me. I felt as if I were seeing the outside world come to a rainbow. She lowered her face to mine, lingering before connecting her forehead to mine. Her nose rolled down to touch mine, followed by her lips. Briefly at first, she kissed me. It was just the touch of her lips to mine, her bright blue eyes meeting mine the way men wish they got to see the eyes of the woman they loved. I pulled her close, pressing her against me so tightly that I felt like we weren't two separate beings. We breathed at the same time, practically molded together. If someone were to trap us in stone, I would've begged for them to do it right now. Her eyes fell to that half-lidded, blissful kind of look that girls got on their faces right before they were kissed, and she pressed her lips to mine again.

I kissed her in the darkness and the silence of her parents' kitchen as if I had been with her for my entire life. I kissed her the way a normal boy kissed a normal girl that he loved very normally, even though we both knew that was a lie, because normal people didn't get this kind of love. I flattened my hand against her back and I pressed her against me.

She broke away to breathe and exhaled words against my lips. "Take me upstairs with you. We can finish packing in the morning." Her arms wound loosely around my neck, and we both knew that we had our own rules to forge now. I picked up Garrot's journal and left my plate, boosting her in my grip as I stood. She laughed, her forehead still pressed to mine and her eyes twinkling like gemstones. I left my chair sitting out the way I put it and carried her up the stairs to her frilly, pink bedroom. I tried to imagine her being little there, speaking all French, dreaming about the boy across the street and who he might grow up to be. There had always been a darkness in her, even at her most bright, and I felt like I was getting to know that darkness for real now.

I shut the door with my foot and dropped her gently onto her bed. She smiled as I shed my shoes and dropped in on top of her. She laughed and kissed me brightly.  
"I love you," I muttered against her lips.  
She slid her hands under my jacket, peeling it off slowly and tossing it onto her side of the bed. I looked after it, taking note of her lip-biting smirk and returning the look with a playful grin. "I love you too."


	29. Chapter 29

_Chapter 29_

The sigh that escaped Granite's lips in his sleep stirred my hair. I buried my face into the pillow in an attempt not to smile. His alarm was in progress, the music from his phone set to awaken him the way a steady stream of beeping usually awoke me. I reached out and produced it from his jacket, swiping away the sleeping screen to unlock it. I drew an inverted pentagram and once his lock had dispelled, I tapped the screen to turn off his alarm. Granite's phone was like any other teenage boy's, but it held the significance to him that Garrot's journal had held. His background was a Guns 'N Roses album cover; I figured I'd save the music for last, then. It was probably extensive. He had maybe ten contacts in his phone, and I could tell why. _Holt. Heath. Clawd. Manny. Catrine. Me. Garrot. Home. R Home. Veronica._ I backed out to flip over the pictures, only to find that there were two: his precious bike and a shot of an undone, unpainted interior that vaguely caught a glimpse of people in the corner of the shot. My breath released slowly and I dropped his phone onto the bed to run my fingers through my hair.

Sometimes I just couldn't help myself. I cared about him much more than it felt like it should be natural. I wanted to share the world with him, every waking moment of his and mine both. I wanted to experience the brush of his lips against my neck while we looked out over the city of London from an extravagant hotel. I wanted him to make music, enjoy his life, and carry me on that journey with him. It wasn't a difficult idea to process that finally losing Garrot had thrown away all of the aspirations for a normal, natural life that I felt were necessary with him. Going to school, getting a job, leaping forth into the adult world, it didn't seem like it needed to happen with Granite. He was a lot like Frankie in a less positive manner; he had an entire world before him. He wanted to go run and play and touch like a child on a new playground.

His arm around my waist pulled me closer, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of my shirt to run up my stomach. I swatted him before he reached my chest, but that hardly deterred him. His fingers rested at my solar plexus, thumb brushing my skin slowly and sensually. I melted back into his arms, fully aware of what those fingers had done to me a little more than twelve hours ago. He didn't push away my hair, but kissed my neck with the strands in place as if conveying that our relationship would never be perfect, and he didn't care one way or the other. He traced his fingers slowly back and slid them out from my shirt. I felt the bridge of his nose and his upper cheek brush my ear and my jaw as he moved closer, his arm squeezing my torso gently.

"Morning," he muttered, stretching with my body still in his grasp. I felt the tender ripple of his awakening muscles and blushed; sometimes I forgot how solid he was.

"Good morning," I replied. He let go of me, shifting so far away that he almost fell off the bed. I remained in place and simply lifted myself to turn toward him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a brick," he muttered. He grabbed his phone from behind me and kissed my forehead, "Thanks for turning off the alarm. I didn't know you had my lock."

"It's an inverted pentagram," I replied, "You might want to change that. It's on like half of your album covers."

He shrugged, "Nothing hugely important on here anyway."

It was total bull and we both knew it. He brought up his code change anyway and turned it away from me. I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed, eyes glinting beautifully, and leaned in to kiss me. Before he drew away, he muttered, "_FoxyRoxy666."_

"You and Satanism," I muttered, trying to tease him despite my blushing cheeks.

He shrugged, "You'd never believe it, what with the good Christian kid I am." We both laughed out loud. He reached over me to grab his jacket and rose. As soon as he had stood, I rolled out from the bed myself. "So what is this _foxy Roxy._" It sounded like he had taken himself back to the nineties all over again.

"The new lock screen," he muttered. "It's an actual code now."

It felt gorgeous to have our own secret code. I couldn't imagine anything different; I felt like a child playing secret agent again, only this time, there weren't any amused werecats watching on knowingly. He draped his coat over the end of the bed and pocketed his phone. I rolled that way instead of rising, shifting to my knees at the footboard and propping up my elbows. "What do you have on there?"

He quirked a shoulder, "Classic rock, metal, electronic, the works. Not a lot to sit on your ass to, if you know what I mean."

I nodded. He glanced around for some inclination of what I might listen to before meeting my gaze, "Tell me you're not into that boy band stuff."

I could've laughed out loud. "You insult me."

He rolled his eyes, "Prim listened to that N-K-O-T-B stuff. Oh god, every time she turned on the stereo I got ready to cringe."

I grasped his hand. His eyes flickered upward to mine, a smile flickering across his face. He shrugged. "It's not a hugely difficult thing, y'know? To miss that, I mean. I might've hated her music, but...you know how it goes."

Trying to put together time for him was like trying to paint a picture of an infinity. Sixteen, seventeen years in captivity had been a good thirty on his soul at least. All this time in the outside world made me feel as if I were missing out on something crucial to his life. "Do you ever miss that?"

He looked up, knowing instinctively what I had implied. He met my eyes, the turbulence in them more violent than the emotions I had seen in recent days. I had almost forgotten that I was in the presence of a different, dangerous man.

"No," he said softly. His eyes betrayed more than I had ever thought to witness, his own personal infinity of pain, violence and regret. I rose, slipping around the bed to wrap my arms around him tightly. Dangerous man or not, he was the one who had chosen to care for me. He hesitated before embracing me tightly, pressing his lips very softly to my head. "That was a long time ago, okay?" We were both exaggerating that, but for his sake, I went with it. I nodded, clutching his shirt gently in my hands. "Roxy...Rochelle...if you knew what I was like then, you probably wouldn't want to be with me now."

I shook my head defiantly. "You aren't that boy anymore. You grew up."

He scoffed. "Not as much as I'd like to." I drew back slightly and placed a finger to his chin. He looked into my eyes with a little gentle prompting. "I love you, right here, right now. I have for a very long time. Don't give up on yourself when I haven't even gotten a say myself yet."

Whether there was truth in my words or not became irrelevant; I was clutching the straws I had grasped. The fear of being alone, being left here with my family and Garrot's looming over me, it was too much to worry about the warrants behind his fears. The lesser of my evils had been the exact one that had gotten us into this mess in the first place. Whether he saw it that way or not was not up to him. For the first time in a very long while, I let the composure slip away. His guardedness melted with mine; his hand cradled my elbow while the other rested comfortably on my lower back. Our eyes met, the fear of becoming a monster in his eyes mingling with my fear of being overcome by the monster inside. "I can't do that to you," he murmured. "They don't even know if Farnum's dead, and the other guys are in juvie. They're gonna be out in a couple years. Granted, they're probably going to fuck up along the way and land themselves back in prison-"

With that acknowledgement, I placed a finger over his lips. He paused, allowing my touch to slip to his cheek. "We will be alright. And you don't know, you're right. I could walk out of this house in twenty minutes and be hit by a bus. I could die of old age, I could get cancer-" He shook his head and attempted to silence me the same way, but I shifted and spoke over the contact of his skin to mine. "There is no guarantees. So yes, we're going to go off and do something dangerous and potentially very stupid, but I don't want to live my life away from you. I don't know what to do with myself, Granite, I've lost every sense of sensibility that I've had in my entire life. Please don't make a pun right now. Let's just go. Why the hell not? Throw caution to the wind, forget that you belong to these people the way I have."

He laughed out loud, his fingers slipping into my hair. His nose met mine and he broke into the biggest, most wild, beautiful grin I had seen on his face all morning. It was the grin of the afterglow; satisfaction coupled with victory and coated in relief. "If you're really that hellbent, then finish your packing. Cause right now, we're wasting daylight."

I kissed him. He melted a little, lowering to my level and clutching my hair a bit more tightly. We broke apart before we could be distracted by the action, though. His eyes glinted beautifully and he smacked my backside a little harshly. I jumped slightly and pushed his arm, "Go grab me something to eat."

He rose his arms and crossed them Macarena style, hands at his elbows, and nodded once sharply, "As you wish."

I couldn't help but laugh as I cracked open my suitcase again. "Don't you dare try to pass off Hammer pants as genie pants, either!"

"I don't have clothes from that decade!" he called up the stairs to me.

"You could fool me!"

I felt the same as his smile while I placed my folded shirts into the little square roller. I felt like if my mother popped in and asked me how I was, the okay I would reply with would be genuine. Even though it had become the most transitional period of my existence, I understood. Nothing in my life would ever be perfect, but right now, the sense of the emotional afterglow would be enough.


	30. Chapter 30

_Chapter 30_

"I don't know about this," Catrine muttered as I put Rochelle's suitcases in the trunk with mine. Manny had given up on trying to dissuade me, casually sitting on the edge of my hood with his arms crossed over his beefy chest, watching the both of us cautiously.

"Look, if it gets rough, we'll come right back," I explained. "I'm literally going to drive her around Europe. We're not going off to China or the Middle East, we're staying in Europe. We just want a change of pace."

I couldn't help but be hyped up, and not from the three Mountain Dews whose bottles were sitting along the back window as evidence to my over-caffeination. It was sunny and bright, the leaves were sparkling and everything seemed to be perfectly in order; it felt like the perfect day to escape.

Rochelle came trotting out of the house with a large purse and a smaller one, dashing for the trunk before I closed it and placing the stuffed large purse in the back, closest to the back seat. She kissed my cheek in passing before running around to the front of the car. Catrine scowled. I shut the trunk with a resounding thump, carried the bottles over to their garbage can and glanced back to the house. Two families stared back at me with a surprising amount of positivity. Most people would hate the guy that took their daughter off on a wild globe-trot across Europe, especially when that guy was a lot like me, but not them. Her mother smiled slightly at me, as if simply happy to see her daughter smiling again, her father holding his stern indifference like it actually covered his relief, and Garrot's parents looked at me like I was godsend. Like they blamed themselves for everything and seeing us free after our loyalty to their son had been fulfilled was the greatest gift we could've ever possibly given them. Maybe it was. I blew Garrot's mom a kiss like she were my own. She smiled and pantomimed catching it in her palm. Closing her hand, she pressed it close to her heart. I got the feeling they had done that before. I could've asked if it was the same way when he had run off to America to take her back from me.

I didn't. I slid into the car with a little wave, and she waved furiously before joining me. Manny climbed off the hood and Catrine joined him at the crest of the driveway. Rochelle put down the window and called out, "Catrine, I swear to you I'll call, and I'll email and I'll write, just please don't be angry with me!"

"I'm not angry with you, mon chere!" she called back, "It's that wild boy I worry about!"

I nodded toward Manny. He couldn't hide his smirk for long, and returned the nod with it breaking across his features. His arm draped over Catrine's shoulders, holding her back and supporting her at the same time. She caught his hand instinctively and watched the both of us. Like the Hunger Games, I linked my fingers with Rochelle and rose our hands to them. That put her at ease a little and made my girl giggle. My girl. God was that a happy thought if one had ever crossed my mind.

Rather than wrestle with foreign music, I popped in a CD as soon as we hit highway and turned up _Carry on, Wayward Son._ Rochelle glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes, her glorious lips breaking into a smile that felt like the new dawn. I let my hand drop while my eyes returned to the road, pushing the hem of her skirt up involuntarily as I massaged her soft, freckled knee. She was too cute for words sometimes, all those freckles splattered across her skin, probably from all the sun. She caught my hand and linked our fingers again, "Where are we going first?"

I checked the little bobbing compass on the dashboard and grinned, "Northwest. London first. Then, we dip low, hit Spain, go loop around by the Mediterranean..." I had told Catrine I was keeping her in Europe, I never said we weren't going to take in all the Europe that we could. City slowly morphed into country homes, miles peeling away without people or gas station. There was nothing out here but flowing grass, grazing animals, and the occasional herd of sheep. We transitioned from CD to CD, pulling off for a picnic lunch after about four hours on the road and continuing on quickly afterward. We started placing bets on when the next gas station would come, and she was watching our mileage to see who would win. We both lost the first three rounds, so they didn't count. A long time and an even longer way later, we were down to our last two gallons and managed to find a little red Kwik Mart station out in the middle of transcendentalist nowhere.

Roxy climbed out and dashed for the bathroom once I'd pulled into a pump. I locked up, even though there probably wasn't a person but the attendant for miles. Sure enough, there was a little house in the distance and a little old woman sat behind the counter. She smiled with werewolf teeth, and I knew I was at home. I pulled out the euros and tried my rusty French, but after a few attempts that made her smile with the knowledge that I was very clearly a foreigner, I tried in English. "How much to fill up the tank?"

"How big is it?" she asked.

I gestured. She shrugged, "Twenty five."

I almost grinned at the price, which Rochelle would later tell me was actually pretty proportionate to America. She took care of stocking up our groceries, and I took care of the gas. We changed off while she loaded up the car, letting me run off to the bathroom, and we hit the road again.

It was the first night I had slept out under the stars since I left Salem.

What I told Ronnie was true, and I told Rochelle it too. In the city, you thought you saw stars. But they were flickery, hazy and alone. In the country, you saw them more vividly and you thought it was it. But out here, where no one knew you existed, where nature was rough and unforgiving, that was where you got to see it all. The golden streaks of galaxies, the faint pink trails left by comets and shooting stars. Twinkling, glistening silver that wasn't really twinkling at all, it was just reacting to the invisible clouds shifting high in the atmosphere. The moon was a tiny sliver in the sky, peppered in celestial glitter. We laid on the hood of the car and watched the sky while we had an extremely late dinner.

"Do you want to keep going?" I asked. Yeah, sure, there was going to come to a point when the road became hotels and burger joints and we wouldn't be eating single-bite muffins for a ten PM "feast", but out here...I couldn't explain it. I grew up in the middle of nowhere. I was used to this endless, sometimes oppressive quiet. Nothing but the sun and moon for a light unless it was winter, the sounds of crickets for my music. She couldn't wonder why I'd gone a little music nuts.

"This is beautiful," she murmured through bites of a legitimate blueberry muffin. I didn't like whole muffins. The tops were nice, but eating the bottom was tedious. She shifted to sit up, propping up her back against the windshield and looking around at the dots of tiny fireflies still lingering in the pre-autumn cool. I rolled over, coming into contact with her knees, and began to kiss them. She paused, her eyes falling to me. I kissed the insides of her knees and slowly upward, edging her skirt up as I went. She melted, sliding down the smooth body in surrender. "Granite..." she nearly whimpered. I ran my hands over her soft skin, gripping her thighs eagerly. They were nice, like all the rest of her; not tiny, not sticky like those girls who thought they were pretty.

"I'm going to give you a nice, Australian kiss," I muttered to her.

She laughed, "What's that?"

I couldn't help the look that crossed my face as I replied, "Like a French kiss, but down under."

She sat up, moving away, "That...no. Granite, that _blew_."

I burst into laughter. "Rochelle! I had no idea you spoke the teenage vernacular!"

"I had no idea you knew what a vernacular was."

I tugged her close to me and kissed her forcefully. I didn't need another comeback but that. Her arms wound around my neck pleasantly, clenching in my hair and making sure I dropped back with her against the hood. I clenched my fingers in the back of her shirt, slipping a hand up her side to her chest. Before I could cop a feel, something howled. And it was close.

"Shit," she muttered.

"Back in the car," I replied, rolling off of her. She slid off the hood, taking her wrapper with her, and climbed into the car with me. We locked ourselves in with the car off and put back our seats. I hadn't thought to pack pillows, but there were blankets thrown in the back. I rose a brow at her. She just smiled, her brilliance clearly at work. I brought my legs up onto the seat and sat sideways, watching the wolves emerge silently from the crest of the hill. Rochelle froze, but not in fear. The look in her eyes grew as reverent as I hoped it would. The large, gray alpha threw his head back and sounded off to summon his pack.

"He's beautiful," she murmured. I nodded. "You see that one there?" A white wolf had come trotting up to him, the first of them. She nodded. "That's his mate. They're bonded to each other in ways a lot of people will never understand."

She didn't break gaze toward them, watching as spotted ones, darker ones and lighter ones trotted out from their respective areas of field to join their leader. "You seem to know an awful lot about wolves."

"I should, I was raised one."

She smiled, and it toyed with the corners of her lips. She wrapped herself up under a cottony blue throw to watch them frolic and play before their hunt. They were every bit as beautiful as they looked. "You really are a wolf, Granite," she murmured before laying down. "People think you're dangerous, but you're nothing but a big, playful ball of warm and fluffy."


	31. Chapter 31

_Chapter 31_

Stereo blasting, we tore through the countryside like it was the Indiana Speedway. We were going so fast it felt as if the pavement had evaporated out from under us, and we were flying over the grass before we hit another city. I swung around a curve so fast the car should've bowled over. Rochelle screamed, but not in terror- pure excitement was coursing through us both. I punched a fist and hollered with her. My entire physical body felt alive like it never had before, the thrill coursing through me faster than I had the brain to comprehend. It was stupid and dangerous, but it was the best feeling in the world. We could whip around the next corner and flip and shatter into a million pieces, but it was totally worth it for the moment we had. The road was twisting, curving, winding around like a serpent and I could see the crest of a hill. For some reason, I floored it. Rochelle gripped my arm, but be it reckless joy or purely suicidal carelessness, she let me hit it as fast as I possibly could. We went airborne high enough for me to see the brinks of skyscrapers far ahead, and the shocks bounced sharply as we hit the pavement again. I eased off the gas. She let out a cheering laugh like nothing I had ever heard, her eyes bright and joyful, her lips split in a grin like nothing of hers I had ever seen before. I half expected her to shout _viva la revolution!_

Rochelle glanced to me and kissed my cheek. I grinned. "I love you, Roxy."

"You gave me a heart attack," she said in a tone that implied she enjoyed every minute of it. I laughed out loud, surprised at my own elation. Our car slowed to a more natural, bearable pace and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Her body wrapped into mine the way ivy wrapped around a pillar and she pressed a tender, timid kiss to my cheek. "Where are we headed first?"

I shrugged, "Wherever the road takes us." Literally. I couldn't use the GPS on my phone for shit.

I didn't know quite how long we'd been driving, but this was the first major city we'd been in since we left Scaris, and it was evident that we were not in our little Kansas anymore.

Cities were a lot like hospital chairs. You never knew who came before you sitting in them or who would come after you, just that it was sometimes miserable to be there, you had no idea what to do, and it was probably dirtier than you wanted to think about. This place managed to break those ideas in moments. I was totally in love, and we hadn't even made it a city block. The buildings were like the art district of Chicago- a place we'd traveled to only once in my life, but the memory stuck out like gold among rubble. I admired the gorgeous yellow-brick buildings and took a deep inhale of something that smelled like baked goods.

"What language is that?" I asked her as I drove toward something resembling a parking garage.

"Spanish," she replied as if I was nuts for not speaking seventeen different languages. I couldn't help but smirk; she was the exact kind of nerdy something-else that made me stop to think about my existence. I bet if Rochelle had her way, she'd make every guy on earth think over how many times they'd gone _star light, star bright...you're not a star so never mind._ She began rifling through Garrot's glove box as if expecting magical money to appear. Surprisingly, as I pulled up, the attendant had already taken a look at our licence plates and switched, blessedly, to French. Which I still understood absolutely none of. I let Rochelle handle it.

"I love you," Rochelle echoed me as we pulled into a spot. I think she knew that the blessed Euro was universal out here.

I kissed her cheek in return and slid out of the car. Once she was out, purse in hand, I triple checked the locks on our sleek mobile home and grasped her hand. She kept pace with me in her totally unbroken-in running shoes, and together we hopped the concrete barrier like teenage concert-goers. Boots and sneakers made soft thuds on the pavement, and we dashed back toward the scent of gorgeously sweetened food. All I needed was the coffee sign to know to bolt in and lust after one of everything. Coffee, meats, sweets, it all hit my senses at once and I was salivating in no time. Practically pressing my glass to the window like a child in a candy shop, I gazed adoringly in at the cheesecake, pound cake, muffins and assorted delicacies behind the bakers' glass.

A pretty young werewolf wandered up to the glass. She looked vaguely like Clawdeen, which made me smile. "Dos," I said, pointing to the coffee-dusted chocolate.

"Foreigner?" she asked in a smooth, Midwestern American tone. I looked up with legitimate surprise and broke into a grin. "American."

"The leather gives you away," she replied. "Usually I only see it in pants around here." Her eyes glinted teasingly. She extended a hand over the counter, maybe mistaking my smile for flirting, but either way, I gripped her hand and shook it. "Clawdia," she replied, tucking a blond curl behind her pointed, dog-like ear.

"Granite," I replied. "And that's Rochelle," I gestured toward my girl, eagerly picking out legitimate food and smoothies. God, the health food kick was going to be the death of my taste buds, but at least they didn't seem to have anything vegetarian on the menu. Roxy was a hell of a lot more responsible than me; she cared about taking care of herself and our money and everything else. Me? I just wanted some coffee dusted chocolate balls, and stat.

"Tell you what...since you two are so cute, you can have these on the house." She reached in, clasping four in a piece of tissue paper, and passed them over the countertop to me. She wandered over to where Rochelle was paying and slid in a dollar bill of her own money with a toothy smile flashed in her general direction. Rochelle went pink.

"Where are you two from?" Clawdia asked as she took over for us and the other girl dashed off to prepare food.

"She's originally from Scaris. Came from Salem back to Scaris. I'm from god knows where," I replied. She grinned at me cheekily, totally not realizing I literally had no idea where I was born, or really even what day it was. That was all my dad's...keeping track. But I knew, I'd written it down. It was in my journal in the car. Everything I needed to know about myself got written down, Dad made sure of that before I left, just in case. I popped one of the coffee-coated chocolate balls in my mouth and practically melted in happiness; it had a fudge center. God created these, and he was good.

"My cousins are in Salem," she replied, "Maybe you know them. The Wolf clan?"

I grinned, "I'm friends with Clawdeen's man." Maybe that was the great part of being male, I literally got to refer to every guy I knew as my friend. "And her brother."

She broke into a grin and sized me up all over again. "You look too old to be one of the triplets' friends. Clawd?"

I nodded. Rochelle linked her fingers through mine and ate her sweets timidly. We must've looked quite the pair, she in her pastels and floral prints and me in my leather jacket and biker boots. Clawdia had an infectious smile that I felt spreading to me before long. As our sandwiches were wrapped up and placed in a bag, two smoothies placed on the counter, she met my eyes. There was absolute sentimental romance in hers, "There's a park down the block people like to go on days like today. Maybe you two would be interested."

Rochelle glanced to me. I shrugged, "Thanks."

She was just one more person buying in to the Hallmark romance, but I couldn't break her heart that easily. Rochelle took the bag and her drink and slipped my drink into my hand. I clutched on to the last one of our sweets like it was my salvation and flashed her a smile in retreat. She gave us an overly enthusiastic wave as we left. Rochelle paused at the curb, "She didn't tell us where."

I shrugged and started walking back toward the parking garage, "She'd probably come find us if we weren't going the right way."

She laughed. The soft, autumn breeze stirred her hair and fanned it aside. I nearly had my Hallmark moment myself. The yellow and white stone buildings gave way to an extensive patch of grass and trees. Couples cuddled on park benches and little kids fed strays. There was a band playing an impromptu show by the fountain and we migrated toward that. Settling down in the sun together, fingers laced and bag spread between us, we listened to the lively Spanish guitar and watched the people dance in passing. While she sat, her knees together and her skirt so properly draped over them, I placed the wrapped napkin in her lap.

She looked up at me with surprise and smiled softly, but with all of my soul, I couldn't help but grin as she picked it up, unwrapped it, and took the blissful bite that I had forfeited to see her have it for me.

God, I was really too far gone in love with her for it to be a good thing.

_A/N- I think this met word count for tonight, but just in case it didn't, I wanted to let you guys know what was going on; my grandma got really sick the other night. She's been with me all my life, so when she had to go to the hospital yesterday, it threw me off really badly. She is doing better, but I'm still worried, because it was serious. I'll be back on my game when she gets home, I promise. And I'm a little over-caffeinated today, so that made this possible. Thanks for understanding, and I'm grateful for every one of you who reads and leaves feedback.  
Edit: I didn't make word count. But I tried. I'll get my stuff together soon, I promise._


	32. Chapter 32

_Chapter 32_

We didn't make it farther than Spain, for whatever reason I would never fully realize. We were on the road heading south a few days after eating, exploring and generally wandering our way around whatever towns we came to, when Rochelle turned to me and slipped her fingers through mine. I was keeping our speed down, so I didn't see why she'd have any real reason to be upset over anything, but I caught the feeling pretty quickly that she was. Her thumb caressed my knuckles slowly. I paused and threw a glance her way.

"I want to go home," she murmured.

We were on the highway, so I pulled off at the first exit and into the parking lot of the first gas station I saw. As soon as I put our temporary house in park, she dropped her gaze. I had to admit, it was kind of infuriating. I turned to look at her, tucking my booted foot under my other leg to fully direct my body toward hers. She folded her hands in her lap, her thin, acid washed jeans probably the most rebellious thing she owned, and partially cloaked by one of my flannel shirts anyway. I cut up one of my t-shirts for her to wear, putting the tongue of the Rolling Stones under her pretty face. I felt happy, right down to the very center of my soul, seeing her wearing my clothes like that. She was gorgeous, and I loved her beyond all freaking natural measure, but like this? I loved her especially. I wanted to take her off to concerts, trail tour busses, teach her to play. We were supposed to go on wild adventures, but I knew right at that moment that she was going to tell me we were through with this little trip right here. We had covered a lot of miles, I wasn't going to lie...but we hadn't been gone more than a week and a half.

"I miss my family," she murmured. "I miss Garrot's family, and Catrine." She looked at me, her eyes pleading. She knew completely and totally that I wasn't going to be angry; she knew she was going to win. I sighed, threw the car in reverse, and shifted to pull out. She remained silent while I drove away, cracking into a bottle of tea and waiting until we had turned back the way we'd come on the freeway to speak again. "Are you angry with me?"

I shrugged, "Not at all." Honestly? I wasn't. And it scared me. The terror in my chest was real, because I had only just gotten this life, and now I felt completely ready to throw it all away. I was used to loss by now, or so I thought. Every so often, my insides felt wet and I felt the desperation pulling on the edges of my sanity like the binding on the skin of a drum. Sometimes, I felt the lump rising in my throat and the urge to scream grow hot, the tears well up behind my eyes and the jitters rise in my belly, but it was only on the every-so-often. Rochelle made it better and I knew it. Our car, singing over the pavement, kept it at bay.

"Whataya wanna do at home?" I found myself asking, even though I figured I knew the answer. Go cuddle up to her parents, get into school, ease herself away so she didn't have to feel that sudden surge of pain when she left. Maybe we'd go back to Salem. Maybe we'd bed down and have babies like all the rest of her friends. There was real fear in the pit of my stomach that she was going to say those words to me. Instead, she shrugged, and she reached out and rubbed my knee. It took us maybe seven hours to get back to Barcelona, where we had really begun our trip. It was getting late, so I parked in the parking garage and hopped the barrier. She followed me with practiced ease, her hands jammed in her pockets. I glanced to her out of the corner of my eye and wrapped her up under my arm. A small smile crossed her lips, "You are okay with this, aren't you?"

I nodded. Instead of the quiet scene from earlier, there was a portable fence wrapped around the park. I pulled her back at the corner and waited for the familiar guitar riffs to subside, as well as security to be in sight. She looked at me as if she understood my thought process and for a split second, her eyes filled with reflexive terror. Then, it melted away. I put up one finger in silence, then two, and at the count of three we broke into a dead sprint and leapt up onto the fence. I grabbed the top, planting my feet and hauled myself over. She dropped over gracefully, little wings fluttering, and we tore across the lawn to the concert as Catty Noir took the stage. My hand remained linked with hers while we navigated through the tightly packed people around us. I charged with her right up to the front, breaking strings of friends only for them to reform like plasma in our wake. Stopping just before the quickly forming throng at the front of the stage, we were at the edge of the calm, conformed beings making up her general crowd; the lesser fans. I shrugged off my jacket and handed it to Rochelle, to which she took in surprise, and I shed my shirt. "Woo!" I cheered, spinning it around like an eighties metal-head, "Catty!"

She was in the middle of her chorus, and she nodded in our general direction. Rochelle gripped my arm. I continued to cheer, amping her and the crowd up as we went. For a split second, Rochelle was having the best time of her life. I paused, grabbed her leather-clad arms, and boosted her into the crowd of dancing, reaching beings. Rochelle let out a squeak of surprise. "Surfer!" I called, grabbing her foot and boosting her.  
Immediately, the morale of the people around us changed. They all put up their hands and boosted her. Catty let out a melodic laugh and continued on her show, even as people pushed Rochelle to the front of the stage. Memories flitted across my mind of all the clay-brick and stone buildings we had seen; the flower pastures and the villa farms, the winding highways both cruised down and blazed down. Scaris. Barcelona. Wherever the hell we ended up, it didn't need to go all the way down to Italy and Greece, it could end here tonight for all I cared. A man spoke to me in Spanish words I didn't know, but his hands were out in offering for me to join her and I understood that much. Placing a hand on his shoulder and aiding him with my own wings, I spoke loudly, "Si."

I laid down, and I let the other fans guide me. Two hundred and thirty pounds of half-gargoyle muscle bobbed up over the heads of the other fans. Rochelle, in all her tinier figure, was staring at her idol and suddenly pulled on stage by the bassist. I was spun accidentally. Even though I was facing the rapidly declining sun- streaking pink and orange across the star-dotted sky, I cheered for her. Everything was deafening. I was so far gone within myself for a moment that I forgot how to hear. I was lost in the sensation of the pulses, the touches, the sight of the inkiness above me, as if there was a whole ethereal universe in which Garrot had magically gotten us to dump ourselves in a situation we could enjoy.

I was tossed up onto the stage unceremoniously beside Rochelle, and I jumped to my feet and cheered as Catty finished her song.

"Where are you two from?" she shouted into her microphone over the screaming crowd.

"Salem!" I cheered. I punched our hands like the Hunger Games, and the crowd went wild.

"Salem, huh?!" she said, "I'm doing a show there!"

"You're gonna love it the way Roxy loves _Born Wild!_" So much for a subtle hint. Catty broke into a grin, "I love that song too. You know it?"

Rochelle went red as she was handed a mic. I grinned, "Got a guitar?" Much to my surprise, her bassist handed it off to me, and I couldn't stop myself. I struck the first cord and drove her crowd wild. Thankfully, she had an intro, because the starlet was struck dumb for a second. Rochelle was embarrassed beyond all natural belief until Catty broke into an ethereal smile and turned back toward her crowd. Immediately, she broke into song, and Rochelle joined her at the chorus.

I did not want the moment to end. The sensation of chords beneath my fingers was like a virgin in bed with a gorgeous woman for the first time. I only vaguely knew how to play, but I could make a sound and I could transfer it from my heart the way a nerd changed files on a computer screen. Catty's bassist was even impressed, and he and Rochelle stood off for the next song. Seriously, people talked about pop stars being secretly horrible people, but Catty made no attempt to boot me. She knew I was feeling her music, loving her music the way she did- hell, I felt like I was making love to that guitar. There was a kind of sensation that came with doing something you love, whatever it was, something special. I felt real and really fucking alive.

Eventually, I did change hands back to Catty's bassist, but she kept us up in the front. When the concert was over, almost two and a half hours later, she had them tug us back up onto the stage and lead us "backstage." Backstage meant her tour bus, which was probably a hundred and fifty times cooler than just behind a stage at any other arena.

"Catty, I am so honored to meet you," Rochelle began before pausing, totally star struck.

Catty grinned as she sunk down on her black leather seat. "Thanks- Roxy, right?"

I nodded. So did Rochelle, even though I was the only other person on earth to call her that name.

Catty's eyes turned to me. They were instinctive, intuitive, and truthful. She was a musician down to her very soul. "You play for a long time?"

"I taught myself within the past year. I only had a little help from my dad." I looked around and sunk onto the opposite seat. Her eyes widened; the same look everybody else got when they realized I'd had pretty much no formal lessons in anything. "Seriously?" she asked. I quirked my head and made her grin even more. "You know what I love about music? It's universal."

"It's in your blood," I replied. Her guitarist got me a drink, and Roxy politely declined. He set it on her lap anyway before taking up the seat beside her. "It's in everybody's blood, some people just got a different tune than others."

"Top five, go," she said.

"Bowie, Guns 'N Roses, Stones, Metallica, Jovi." It was an instinct. It made her grin.

"I like him," her bassist replied.

Rochelle looked at me with renewed interest and a slightly muted panic. My eyes glinted; I was not intending to follow their tour around, but... "If you guys ever want anybody for anything, roadie, sound man, backup, whatever..." I picked up one of her autograph pens and a napkin. She watched me in pink-and-black amusement while I scrawled my number with her pen. It was like I broke some kind of unspoken code, and she liked it. When I put the pen down, she took the napkin from under my hands and flashed me a bright, white-toothed smile. "I'll be in touch."

If Catty Noir had said that to any other guy and he had thought _I hope you will,_ it probably would've been for vastly different reasons than the ones that had driven my fingers over the body of that guitar.


	33. Chapter 33

_Chapter 33_

"I can't believe it," Rochelle gushed, sinking into the plush hotel bed in absolute awe. "We are sleeping on the same floor, of the same building, in the same hall as _Catty Noir!_" If she was the squeaking type, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself. I had hardly paid attention to that fact, focusing more on the truthful idea that I forgot what it was like, even in our short amount of time, to live out of a car. It was second nature, but now, our bags sat neatly tucked away in the drawers, still packed, but inside. I felt like I was rich, hovering over the mini fridge and devouring as much of the little meat and cheese platter as I could after Roxy had written it off. For the first time in days, I was drooping with exhaustion before nine PM. It felt comfortable in a very homey sense.

We had a single room, nothing extremely fancy. It had a huge, nice bed with a TV built into the wall, a bathroom and a closet and the kitchen area off to the side. The other wall was pockmarked with two identical little balconies, small enough for only two or three people at a time. As Rochelle sat up from the massive bed, she shot me a look that spoke infinite levels of gratitude and she nearly flew over to her suitcases, "They have a laundry room downstairs, _non?_ I'm going to go wash our clothes."

"You're excited over laundry," I observed.

"I missed wearing my own clothes!" she nearly shouted, laughing afterwards. She looked around and finally settled for taking a garbage bag out from the box under the sink and going over to our bags. I watched her, stacking pepperoni on cheddar and placing it on saltines while she checked our pockets and dumped things, one by one, into the bag. As she wrapped up, placing the bags back in their predetermined locations, I clicked on the TV. I only spoke maybe a lick of Spanish, but the TV had subtitles. She threw a glance to me, shook her head and picked up the bag over her shoulder. "Give me those."

I gestured to my own clothes. She nodded. I grinned, "What, are you going to strip down and wait for our clothes naked?"

She blushed furiously, but took the food from my hand and put it down on the tray. With a rather gentle amount of force, she pulled off my shirt and went to work on my belt, "No. I am doing my laundry first, then I am doing yours. I am going to put these clothes in a bag when I get back upstairs, I am taking a long bath, and I am going to bed in my own clothes again."

She peeled my belt out of the loops on my pants and draped it over the chair. I pulled her closer and pressed a soft, warm, inviting kiss to her lips. "You know, if we could get you in a French maid outfit, this moment might be perfect."

She swatted my chest playfully. I tugged her body flush against mine and tried not to take too much joy out of hearing her tiny gasp of surprise. Slowly, I lowered my lips to her neck, just beneath her ear, and nipped. She lingered against me for a moment, staying close of her own free will, before she took a step back and met my eyes with the smoldering sight of hers. I could've salivated.

"I need that," she said softly, attempting to keep her tone even.

I stripped right there and tucked my clothes into the bag. Twitching a brow suggestively, I watched as her eyes dropped and began a slow decent that felt almost like a physical caress. I slipped my shirt from around her waist, watching her stiffen and bare her neck to me almost instinctively. I kissed her. I slid open the top button of her jeans, stopped only when I reached for her zipper. Her eyes met mine with blazing, passionate understanding. "Go take a bath," she murmured to me, "I'll join you."

"I'll be waiting," I murmured in her ear. I nipped it lightly and gave her backside a sharp swat. She jumped and gasped on reflex, her desire morphing into shock and playful irritation. A small smile turned up the corners of her lips and she hit me with the laundry bag on the way out. I laughed, rebounding it off my knee before it could hit somewhere precious. She slipped out our main door and I polished off the food before heading into the adjoining bathroom. Man, hanging out with Catty had perks. It was one of those huge, modern hot tub bathtubs and I practically jumped in. I turned the water halfway in heat and let it fill up on full blast. Roxy was right about one thing, baths felt like rebirths. I lathered myself head to toe in fancy soap and dunked under the water, getting it cloudy with forming bubbles. When I had cleaned up and the dirty water had flowed down the drain, I nudged it shut again and let it fill up to my chest. Thinking about it wasn't fixing the situation any, but I was already deep in hot water, both literally and metaphorically. I imagined her pressed to my chest, her slippery skin against my own and her hair sticking to me. Offering to do the work for her, since she did so much for me, and listening to that tiny gasp when she caught on...ending up spilling water over the sides. Carrying it out onto the countertop, facing the mirror so she could see...then taking it to bed and rolling in the sheets so much we got dry without having to do it ourselves. I didn't feel like I'd ever fall asleep, and each minute waiting became more excruciating. I closed my eyes and sunk down into the persistent liquid heat, and I had the sudden thought that maybe this time, I wouldn't wait and just take care of it myself.

Instead, the water sloshed gently and I felt her join me. I smiled, reclining as her legs took up the space beside either of mine. She leaned forward, pressing herself to me, tracing her lips, tongue and teeth over my neck. Her hair tickled my face, fluttering my eyes to a flash of pink. I released a sound of delight through closed lips, closing my eyes again to enjoy the sensation of her giggle against my skin and her provocative love bites. "Jesus Christ," I muttered while her tongue ran from the base of my throat up to the end of my ear. She nibbled and sucked on the lobe, only making it more difficult for me, "Roxy..."

The girl in the bathtub with me paused, and uttered in a voice that was not my girlfriend's, "Roxy?"

Immediately, I snapped to focus to find absolutely none other than Catty Noir joining me. If I could've seen her face beneath the layer of steam-dampened black fur, I knew I'd be watching her turn red with embarrassment. "I thought you two weren't..." For a solid minute and a half, I forgot what words were. I was half dumbfounded that a girl as worldly, extravagant, honestly fucking gorgeous and easily the most eligible monster bachelorette on the fucking planet would be interested in an idiot like me, and half stupefied that I was too fucking stupid not to check to see who was crawling in bed with me. Bath. Bed. Same difference when sex was supposed to be going on.

She snapped up out of the water like a cobra instead of a cat. I got up too, if for no other reason than to snatch the towel off the hook and follow her. She turned, pausing to apologize profusely, and I wrapped her up in it. Her pause became a comforted freeze, and I watched her shoulders relaxed as I cloaked her gorgeous, midnight skin in stark, fluffy white. Sheepishly, she met my eyes. The ends of her hot pink hair were dripping like paintbrushes, and she looked like Akasha in the bath with Lestat. If I was not a faithful man, I would've turned right back around and let her join me.

"It's alright," I murmured. "Just make sure no one sees you."

I had literally just uttered the words when the door opened, and Rochelle struggled in toting our clothes. I forgot that I was naked and wet and went to help, hauling the heavy bag inside for her. She laughed breathlessly and shook her head, "You couldn't wait, could you?"

Her eyes lifted and immediately, they filled with two completely different emotions. She found ulterior motive in her own words and seemed to eat them immediately. I watched the damage be done before I had the chance to vocalize what had happened; betrayal, fury and pain filled her eyes and she looked from her idol to me with disbelief. The both of us were naked and wet, but from the timid, sheepish look on the female's face against the pleading that had taken up my eyes, she threw her conclusion ahead of my words without a second thought. She shook her head, and I watched tears that I had sworn I would never cause her fill her eyes. "I can't believe you."

"Roxy, I swear to God nothing happened-"

"There is another woman, naked and wet in our bedroom. You are naked and wet in our bedroom. You just happened to take showers at the exact same time and she came over to borrow some sugar while you forgot your towel?" Her tone was biting, and it stung worse than any hit she could've possibly inflicted. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Because it's true," I pled. "I swear to God, Roxy, nothing happened! I swear on my friendship with Garrot-!"

She slapped me then. She hit me so hard my face snapped around and I grabbed her wrists to keep her from going off. She pushed me away, wrenching free and charging toward our bathroom, but then she paused. Finally, Catty spoke, "Roxy, he's right. Nothing happened, it was a mistake."

She was torn between going into the bathroom and cutting the both of us off and relinquishing from the place she thought we'd defiled. I crossed the room to her, grasping her shoulders gently. Her face scrunched up and tears were leaking down her face, her lips pulled down at the corners so far it seemed like she wore invisible weights. "The only mistake in this room is the fact that I ever let myself love you," she whispered to me.

I froze.

She pulled away.

Her fingers touched the door and I whispered, "You know how much I love you. You know how long I waited for you. And if you honestly want to accuse me now...when I did all this for you, when I decided to take you home..."

She went into the bathroom and shut the door. I went into the closet and grabbed another towel. I didn't care if I was in front of someone else or not, I started drying off. My eyes were shining, blurring, making it difficult to pretend that it was just wetness on my skin. But I held them back. I felt her soft, fuzzy hand slide over my shoulder, her claws pinpricking on my skin and tickling the flesh they brushed. I turned to her, catching a glimpse of the beautiful girl with her fingers twisted in the white terrycloth at her breasts, her eyes full of sympathy and regret and begging, begging that I didn't let this hurt her. I tied my towel around my waist and I pulled her close in silence.

I couldn't say I was surprised that the pop star was the only other person who could've understand just how badly I needed the contact. For some reason unknown to me, even when she could've left, she stayed. She ran her tenderly manicured claws through my hair and nestled me close to her. "I bet you wish I brought a guitar or something, huh?" she finally murmured to try to break the ice. Only I did, because I would've written a thirty two verse song on why I had no idea how nothing ever seemed to go right for me- and the optimism I had childishly held onto this long had taken a bloody crash and burn.


	34. Chapter 34

_Chapter 34_

Roxy got the bed, I took the couch. It wasn't even much of a couch, but at this point, I didn't care. My resolve had strengthened over the past few hours of trading guilty looks and trying not to go to bed angry at each other. Garrot told me to take care of her; well, if she wanted to go home, I'd take her home. She'd be fine there, and I'd come join them.  
I hadn't thought over being Catty's roadie much. Even if she didn't let me play, just being near the music was going to be enough for me. If they thought I needed formal lessons, then I'd do that. I'd come take the music by the horns with them. I had only ever had one thing that was totally and entirely mine, and it wasn't her. It killed me to think it, but it was true. It was stupid to think that we could have this perfect little life together, go on our adventures and live vicariously and still be happy. I should've stopped time when we were soaring down that winding road. Kept us in that moment forever.

"Are you awake?" her tender tone broke through my exhausted thoughts. I didn't budge. She shifted, casting aside the blankets and padding over the floor to me. "Granite?"

"What?" I found myself muttering through closed eyes and an even more closed mind.

"Did you mean that?"

My eyes opened and I looked up at her. Her hair was tied up in a bouncy, good-girl little ponytail, and her soft, white and pastel pink striped pajamas made her look like a too-mature eight year old. I didn't have a blanket, and this cushion was crap under my head. I lifted a hand and gestured broadly. "That's up to you, isn't it? Considering you never want to listen to a goddamn word I say."

She reached out to me. I sat up and moved away. There was a painful amount of regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I should've listened, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions...you just have to understand that I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" I snapped, "Of me hurting you? For Christ's sake, Rochelle, I've done nothing but try to keep you happy for months. Months. I could've bailed when I found out you had a boyfriend, but goddamn it, I didn't. I said to myself 'hey, that girl's worth fighting for', and I did. I stood by you even when I didn't have to."  
Her eyes fell in shock. Her breath was coming a little faster, making her chest rise and fall unsteadily. I knew she wasn't prepared for this, but she had inflicted real pain on me, and a deeply vengeful little part of me wanted to make sure I did the same to even our playing field. "He was going to die anyway. I could've stayed in Salem and waited it out, let you come running back to me on your own, but no. I told myself 'I love you' over and over again to justify hanging around and being your little fucking lapdog. I gave up _everything_ for you, and you still had the fucking mind to question me? What do you want me to do, Roxy, cut off my balls and hand them to you on a fucking golden platter?"

"Stop," she murmured, her voice thick.

"No, I will not stop. You accused me of cheating on you when I gave up my family, my education, my friends, my entire fucking world to come uproot overseas and be here with you, and you thought _twice_ now that I was going off with other women on you. I could've stayed in Salem if I wanted a casual fuck, Roxy!"

I expected her to strike out, because that was the Rochelle I knew. She was a tough nut, she fought back. Instead, she curled her knees up and wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing her upper arms. She dipped her head into the fetal ball she brought herself into and I heard her breath escape in a sob. I felt like twenty times the asshole I usually did. I dropped beside her, wrapping her up in my arms.

"I love you," she whispered to me. Her shaking fingers pried loose from her sleeve to clutch handfuls of my shirt. "Granite, I love you so much. And I'm so sorry."

She was melting me. I kissed her forehead, nudging my nose to hers while the shaky, crystalline tears streamed down her face. I kissed either cheek, letting them spill against my mouth before I kissed hers and carried the timid taste of salt to hers. Her fingers slid up my shoulders to tangle in my hair.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so scared of losing you. You don't understand, I lost Garrot, and I cannot lose you...you are my world, my reason for being..."

I caught her face tenderly between my hands and caressed the tears from her cheeks. "It shouldn't be that way."

She shook her head stubbornly, but didn't continue. Her fingers wound in my shirt and she pressed herself close to me. I scooped her up and carried her over to the bed. I set her down and crawled under the covers with her in complete ignorance to my previous fury. I wrapped her tightly in my arms and pressed her against my chest. I understood the fear and the anger, but there was a little part of me that still wanted to be selfish. If I wasn't going to go back to school, I wanted to do something meaningful. The more time I spent in this hotel room was making me think like tomorrow was more than a possibility. Even if it was only for a while, and they didn't keep me on, it was something that I knew I'd regret not doing.

"Roxy..." I muttered, "Do you think you'd be angry if I went off with Catty's band for a while?"

She looked up at me, torn between praise and panic. I kissed her forehead, "I swear, I'd write, and email and everything. You aren't gonna lose me, Roxy."

She tucked her face into my neck, "I know." Her fingers wound lovingly in my shirt. "I trust you."

...

I took her home the next morning, and I told Catty I'd meet her when she got to Scaris in a week. Manny and Catrine were already at the house- I guess Rochelle had called them while I was packing and chatting during breakfast- but the short version had come off like nothing I had ever expected. Manny went to talk to Roxy, and Catrine stayed out in the car with me.

The both of us sat on the trunk while she fed me a steady stream of menthol cigarettes. She hadn't disclosed where she got them, but her why was rather obvious. She threw the box in the back of my car and sat the pack on my leg to encourage my chain smoking. It felt so goddamn good after all the stress last night. Roxy was right, she was one hell of a friend. "So I got the loose version of the incident from Rochelle," she murmured.

I shrugged, "What do you want? The whole story? I can put it in a paragraph tops. Catty didn't think Roxy and I were together, so she came to see me, I was setting things straight when Rochelle walked in and blew it out of proportion." I shrugged, "We were angry at each other for a while. It got better."

"Are you going to go back?" Catrine asked, even though I knew she knew. I nodded. She stole one of my cigarettes, lit it up off of my own, and toasted me.

"Is this too selfish of me?" I muttered. "I know Roxy and I have had our rough patches, but I want this. I think it's the first thing I've wanted just for myself since I met her." Catrine remained silent, smoking beside me and letting me voice my intentions as clearly as I possibly could. "Shit, you're an artist. You know what this is like. Music and Roxy are my life. I love her, but I'm going to regret this. I'm not in this about the fame, or about Catty, I just want to go make music." I paused, throwing a glance to her. "That's not unreasonable, is it?"

She looked over at me and smirked slightly, "Only if I can draw the two of you before you leave. Because if you don't come back, I am having blackmail for the rest of my life."

I rolled my eyes, but held out a hand to shake on the preposition with. She clasped her hand with mine, releasing a soft and slightly exhausted sigh. "If you do make it big, you'll advertise me, won't you?"

I glanced over at her, "I'll slip Catty your number for album art as soon as I can."

She sat up suddenly and leapt onto me, screaming in absolute joy. I caught the shadows draping over the top of the car while our other halves looked out at us. I laughed, wrapping my arms tightly around her and trying to make sure I didn't burn her clothes with my cigarette. "Good thing you got another eight lives, cause I think I just gave you a heart attack."

I almost thought she'd bite me, but she rolled away and leapt up on the car like She-Ra. "Manny! He told me he would get me a job with _her_!"

Rochelle rolled her eyes. I looked up long enough to catch sight of the action and give her a sheepish wave. She met my gaze directly and yelled down to me, "You are bound to me by blood, Granite! You had better come home to me when all of your wildness is said and done!"

"You bet your pretty ass I will, Foxy Roxy!"

Manny burst into laughter, the action making him rear back so hard he hit his head on the window. Catrine, naturally, burst into laughter and hopped off the car to run inside to him. Rochelle, shaking her head as usual, leaned out the window to me. It felt incredibly reminiscent of the first time I had come to sneak into her room in the dead of night. "I bet you're damn glad Deuce Gorgon knows his three-strike rule."

She smiled and leaned her elbow on the edge, propping her head up in her palm. "Sing to me."

I shrugged, broke into a wicked grin, and crawled up on top of the car. "Feel free to join in, if you know the words to this one."

_A/N- Unfortunately, a heads-up as far as things go, tomorrow is likely going to be the last chapter of this story. And with a surprise ending that I think you'll all like very much._


	35. Chapter 35

_Chapter 35_

"I remember the morning you left vividly. We stayed up all night, even though the concert was going to keep us up well past midnight. We didn't even bother to get out of our pajamas until well after noon."

"I just wanted to exist in the same space as you," I added.

Rochelle ran her fingers through my hair, "You packed up the car and you drove me out to the concert with you. We were spectators that time, we weren't even in the front row, but we were having the best night imaginable."

I couldn't help but smirk and squeeze her hand as it sat on my knee. "You didn't want to let go when I gave you the car keys."

"What was I supposed to do? Insist you didn't live on the tour bus? I wanted you to at least take the car, it is your car. I didn't want you to go at all, but I wanted you to be happy, and then Manny and Catrine made themselves known and ruined my little potential guilt trip. So you ran off with everyone else when it was all said and done."

"I kept my promises, though. I called you. I emailed every day when I couldn't."

"At the worst possible hours, usually."

"You went to school, you lived your life."

"I waited twenty years to be with you again, you arrogant pig. I was hardly living my life, I was helping my friends live theirs."

Franklin and Flora looked at each other. The littlest of the two muffled a giggle. I scooped her up and gave her a bone-crushing hug, making her scream and laugh. Franklin rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but it didn't take you two very long to get back on track."

"Wow, Frankie. Don't ever let your mother catch you using my sarcasm," Venus said as she entered, ruffling my hair on the way past. "And Granite, don't break my kid." She sunk into the chair opposite our couch and brought her ivy-covered legs up beneath each other. I released Flora just a little, but the little plant girl hardly moved from my arms. She unrolled the cuff of my sleeve and began chewing the fabric with tiny, fragile incisors.

"So, here's the real question, did anything ever happen between you and Catty?" Franklin asked. "I know she retired like a year or something after that, but you kept on with other musicians. There had to have been somebody other than Rochelle."

If looks could kill, Venus would've had the boy in a puddle of molten copper. Rochelle glanced to me, kneading my shoulder gently, and I shrugged. "Cute girls gave me their numbers all the time. I didn't really care. Music was my first wife and they knew it."

"Nice," Venus cut me off, rolling her eyes.

"Rochelle's my actual wife, okay? Anything else for you to say, U-Haul?"

"Only that you should stop using nineties slang," she replied. I practically chucked the remote at her. Rochelle slowly massaged my shoulder, resting her other hand on the roundness of her stomach as if reminding me that in six and a half weeks, I'd have to start attempting to set an example. At least I escaped the thought that Robecca had with Flora, that they were impressionable even in the womb. God, that story had been like a nightmare I didn't even know I had.

"So you came home to be domesticated," Venus teased. "I'm proud of you. It takes a lot of guts for guys like you to come bed down with a nice girl."

"I sure as hell wasn't going to let you bed down with my nice girl."

Venus nearly choked on her drink laughing. Franklin got a huge, dorky grin on his face while his barely-toddler little sister didn't even catch the pun she'd be realizing in ten years.

Rochelle, Venus and Robecca had stayed close this entire time. It was no surprise, I mean they got to the school at the same time and latched on to each other like nobody's business, except two of the trio had gone off and undergone their weird relationship and subsequent Modern Family monster rendition. I had been back in Salem for all of a year, but this had been the first time anyone had asked about how all this had come to be. And from the look on the robotic little boy's face, he didn't regret an ounce of it.

"You didn't censor that story at all, did you?" Robecca asked, poking her head around the corner of my kitchen. I shrugged in her direction as if asking if she really wanted that for her kids. She gave Venus a pointed look, and the more rebellious of the females simply mirrored my action. She rolled her eyes and gave her wife a pointed look before dipping back into the kitchen. Venus took another drink of her bottled lemon tea, "Hey, I didn't censor the labor story either, and I'm not going to when Flora asks. So long as she knows the hell I went through to pop that kid out of me-"

"Venus!" Robecca shouted, causing the little girl's attention to shift from chewing my sleeve to her other mother's voice.

"You built Franklin, you didn't need to get him pollinated and carry him around on your bladder for nine months!"

Rochelle smiled and massaged the swell of her stomach. With the married couple distracted for a second, I leaned over and kissed her neck. "How's it feel?"

"Okay," she murmured, "He keeps kicking me in the bladder. I bet you were a lot like that."

I stuck my tongue out. She tried to bite it. Laughing, I rested my chin on her shoulder and shifted my arm from around Flora to trapping her between us so my free hand could rest over her stomach. Her fingers slipped over mine, pressing it there so I could feel the tender sensation of a kick beneath stone-tough skin. Flora shook her head like a rabid dog, tearing my shirtsleeve and dragging it up my arm. I sighed, "Venus, you gotta keep this kid away from my clothes."

"Jeeze Flor!" she said, abandoning her bottle on the end table to fetch her offspring from my lap, "We're running up a nice little tab letting you play with Chewy, aren't we?"

The little plant girl gnashed her teeth and grinned a toothy smile up at her mother. Venus looked terrified for a moment before calling into the other room, "Robecca? Did you bring her a bottle?"

"No," the robotic girl called back.

I nearly laughed, "Scared of your own hellspawn?"

"Fuck you," she replied, forgetting to cover Flora's ears first, "When yours grows razor-sharp teeth, you put them on your boobs. Knowing you, you'll get fat in retirement and grow some anyway."

I grabbed her by her belt and plopped her on my lap. She swatted me in the side of the head. I kissed the shaved back of her head and offered my finger to the little flytrap, surprised when she turned me down. She made grabby hands for her mother's chest and sighed, "No matter how enticing this gets to you, male being, it will never be subject to your fantasy."

I snorted. "Venus, you have my permission to beat the ever loving fuck out of me if I ever fantasize about you."

"I will," the normally peace-keeping Brit said as she exited my kitchen with a balance of teacups. She nudged Franklin off the table, and he went to avert his eyes looking at some of my musical memorabilia. Venus didn't move, instead Robecca joined in hovering over me while I was used for a couch cushion. A sharp inhale left the flytrap on my lap and she looked her wife in the eyes, "You need to start doing this. She can't bite you."

"Shush," Robecca murmured, picking up a cloth to dab the blood away from the baby's teeth.

"They're like needles, Roba!"

"I have never heard you whine so much in my life," I teased Venus. She elbowed me in the gut. I had to fake feeling it, since she was so much littler and less tough. Rochelle glanced to me, her eyes glinting, and toyed with my hair. "I do have to admit, I'm very glad you kept your promises."

I tried to lean in around Venus to kiss her, but she only elbowed me again to stop me from jostling her. I patted her side and waited until the little monster had been removed to move her aside and kiss my fiancee.

"Holy crap," Franklin said with a laugh, "You played with the Flaming Maggots? Dude!"

"The Flaming Maggots, Catty Noir..." I glanced to Rochelle. She rolled her eyes and let me proceed. "I even did a short stint with Pearl Jam."

A physical release of steam came from the preteen in front of my metaphorical trophy shelf. He whirled around to look at me with utter and absolute shock, his eyes darting from me to his mothers before he released a strangled sound. "Why didn't anyone tell me I was in the presence of royalty?!"

All the girls burst into laughter, save for Flora. She looked around as if wondering why her parents were making strange noises. I grinned, "I have a guitar pick signed by Eddie Vedder upstairs."

He was bouncing on his toes, "Holy shit. Mom, can I? Can I go see? Mom, please, I gotta-"

Robecca waved him off. I got up and dragged myself upstairs after him, his weighted boots clunking up the stairs in speed he probably shouldn't have had without propulsion of some kind. I nudged open the door to the room we'd spared from being converted into a nursery and moved aside a stack of boxes. I pushed over a chair and bared the glass-paneled case that held the more precious of my trinkets. Franklin dropped to his knees, silently mouthing the significance of each. Eddie's guitar pick, a drumstick signed by Andy Sixx, but when he looked down at the lowermost shelf, he paused. "What is that?"

"That, my potential mini-me, is a coffee cup that was drank out of by none other than _the_ David Bowie."

We knelt before the coffee cup like a religious symbol for a very long time, he in silent shock and myself in muted reverence. "How'd you get that?" he finally whispered.

I rose, linked an arm around him and led him out of the room, "Alright, so you know how I was doing road work for Catty, right? We were somewhere around London for a show or something, and lo and behold, guess who walks in while I'm grabbing coffee?"

Legends weren't born, they were made. When Marilyn Manson was a kid, nobody knew he'd turn out to be the icon of the goths, same with Bowie, Jagger, Catty Noir. I guess half the reason I didn't cut a piece of story for Franklin wasn't that he was going to grow up and understand, but instead, that I wanted to be a legend to somebody. Yeah, I had my face plastered on a couple of tabloids back in the day, wondering if I was Catty's boyfriend or something, but I didn't see myself as a legend. Half the time, I really didn't care to either. It had been a long time since those glory days when I was young and things weren't set in stone. I guess I just always thought about it in terms of prospective. I still remembered Garrot for his art, and his parents had gone and gotten him remembered for that breed of rose he grew. If I was going to be remembered, I wanted it to be on my own terms. I wanted people to know the whole truth, from Roxy and from me and the people involved. People didn't need to call me a great man, but I did want them to think that maybe I was a guy who did a great thing for a woman who really was great enough to warrant it.

I wrapped my arm around Rochelle and kissed her cheek. She brought my hand to her lips and kissed the Fleur De Lis tattoo on my wrist.

**The End**

_A/N- Yeah, for those of who don't remember, this end chapter takes place a little bit after the end of the RW timeline. Now...I have no idea what I'm going to be doing from here on. I have to finish up an X-Men story for a bit, but from there I might post one-shots while working on a legitimate, non-fic novel. Maybe I'll do a new story, who knows. Right now, I have to be a little punny, and just tell you guys to keep an eye out if you still want to. Nothing is set in stone for me just yet ;)_


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